Stacked Crooked
by lumaluma
Summary: Matthew Williams is a bored financial advisor. His next-door neighbour, Alfred, is anything but boring. He teaches Matthew how to live a little. The last thing either man expected was that their friendship would lead to something else... CanUs. M for language and adult themes/situations.
1. Don't Believe a Word

**Righty-o, I'm writing another multi-chapter story. And I like it. I hope you will too! **

**To those of you who have already read this and are wondering 'what's she doing?', I'm fixing errors. I try to edit as much as I can, but I don't catch everything. So, there will be fewer grammatical/spelling errors! Yes, I really care that much.**

**Warning: foul language, adult themes and situations. This applies for the entire story.**

* * *

"You fucking _whore_, I'll _kill _you!"

All Matthew Williams was doing was returning to his room after getting his mail, when the neighbouring apartment's door flew open and a half-naked man ran out, closely followed by a half-naked woman and a fully-clothed, furious man.

"You _bastard! _You _whore! _I don't want to see your cheating face around here ever again!"

Matthew pressed himself against the wall, hiding from his angry neighbour.

"You have two days to get all your shit before I start burning it and giving it to bums on the street, you hear me? Now fuck off, and take that slutty piece of ass with you!"

The two half-naked people slunk off, hurriedly dressing themselves in the clothing Matthew's neighbour had thrown at them in his rage. The man smoothed his hair back, pushed his glasses up his nose, and sighed. Matthew fumbled for his key, fully content to ignore what had just happened.

"Hey there, neighbor!"

He winced. No such luck.

"Just got home from a meeting, and what do I find?"

"Your girlfriend in bed with that man?"

"Huh?" The man tilted his head. "No, I have no clue who that skank was. All I know is my asshole of a boyfriend was all up in her. Jeez. Well, that's what I get for dating a stripper."

Matthew blinked. This man, for the first time in the two years they had lived next to each other, was actually paying attention to him. He seemed to notice Matthew's owlish blinking and stuck his hand out.

"The name's Jones. Alfred F. Jones."

"Matthew Williams."

"So, Matt, what would you say to going for a few drinks? I'll pay, of course."

"Um… sure."

"Cool!" Alfred threw an arm around Matthew's shoulders. "And since tomorrow's Saturday, I can afford a hangover."

Somehow, Matthew found himself in a bar on the street corner, nursing a glass of bourbon while his newfound drinking buddy chugged shots of whisky.

He slammed a glass on the bar and licked his lips. "Ah, that's the stuff. So, Matt, what brought you to Boston, of all places? You're not from around here, I can tell."

The Canadian shrugged. "Work. After I graduated from U of T-"

"Texas?"

"No, Toronto. Canada."

"Oh."

"Anyways, after I graduated, I was offered a position as financial advisor for a company. They moved me here a few years ago."

"Sounds boring."

Matthew nodded. "Yeah, I guess. But it's a living."

"A boring one!"

He refrained from rolling his eyes, instead asking, "Well, what do you do? You're not from Boston either."

"You're right about that. I was born in Massachusetts, yeah, but we moved to California when I was little." The American downed another shot. "I write. A few articles here and there, but mostly adventure novels."

"Wait, you're-"

"Yep, I'm _the _Alfred F. Jones. Author of the Will Stone series. I'm actually working on the sixth installment!"

"What are _you_ doing in Boston?"

Alfred shrugged. "Meh. Felt like a change of scenery. I was getting tired of my place in New York. Plus I prefer apartments to houses anyways. Sliding down the banisters is a helluva lot more fun if there's five floors down instead of one."

"I… wouldn't know."

Matthew was still getting over the fact that his next-door neighbour was a world-famous novelist. How had he never noticed before? Well, he'd never actually read the books…

He admitted that to the American, who laughed. "Thank god. I'm tired of everyone always wanting to talk to me about my work. It gets old."

The Canadian nodded. "I bet. Can't exactly say the same about myself, though."

The American snorted into his shot glass. He lifted his head up and asked, "So, you got a lady friend?"

Matthew shook his head.

"Well, I'll drink to that. Two single guys… watch out, Boston!"

Matthew smirked to himself.

Alfred took another gulp of his drink and set it down. "I bet you're wondering why I'm drinkin' away my sadness. It's 'cuz I've learned that this is the best way. Get completely smashed. I don't exactly look for long-term relationships, so most of the guys I bring home are just in it for the sex or for my money. Or both. I've been cheated on so many times… and it's always right on _my _fucking side of the bed! Jeez."

Matthew shrugged. "I've had two serious relationships. That's about it."

"Either you suck in bed, or they dumped you 'cuz they got bored."

"I'm not bad in bed. That's not the problem."

"So they got bored."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "So what if I'm not the world's most exciting guy? I'm pretty shy, yeah, but I'm stable."

Alfred blinked rather tipsily at him. "Well, there's your problem. You gotta live a little, Matt! I can show ya how, if you want. Now get drunk too, so I don't feel so stupid."

After a few more drinks, Matthew had loosened up considerably. After a few more, he somehow ended up confessing to Alfred that he was gay. After a few more, things got a bit blurry, and he found himself pressed up against the door of his apartment, Alfred's hands on either side of his face, and his tongue invading his mouth.

And damn, was he ever a good kisser, even when he was totally drunk.

Matthew couldn't help but moan into Alfred's mouth and clutch at the other man's shoulders. He pushed him off after a few minutes of the _best_ make-out session of his life, however, and guided Alfred to the couch.

"Just sit down. You're drunk."

The American laughed. "So 're you! now get your ass back over here. You're pretty cute, and I'm horny."

He pinched Matthew's nipples through his shirt, and it took every ounce of Matthew's willpower to pull away.

"Al… stop. We'll both regret it in the morning."

"Aw, Mattie…" Alfred clung to Matthew's arms. "Don't leave me here… all alone…"

The American yawned and promptly fell asleep.

Matthew rolled his eyes, threw a blanket over him, and collapsed on his bed.

…

He opened his eyes the next morning, and felt the telltale throbbing headache of a hangover. He stumbled out of his room, closed the blinds in the living room, and got a glass of water from the kitchenette. He was about to flop on the couch and begin nursing the water when he noticed Alfred.

Whoops. Hopefully he wouldn't mind being woken up.

Matthew nudged his feet off the couch and sat down gingerly. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side, and the rest of Alfred's body followed his feet. The American fell into the gap between the couch and coffee table with an undignified 'thump'.

Matthew winced, stood up, and snuck out of the room. He grabbed several aspirin from the bathroom and returned to the living room, where Alfred was making the pitiful groaning noises of someone struck with a killer hangover. Matthew got him a glass of water as well, and gave it to him along with a couple aspirin.

The American thanked him with a grunt, downed the medicine and the water, and turned to Matthew. "Thanks, man. Sorry for passing out on your couch."

The Canadian shrugged. "You didn't puke or anything, so it's fine. Do you want breakfast? I can make pancakes."

"Sure. Do you have any coke?"

After Matthew gave him a _look_, Alfred rolled his eyes. "The _soda_, jeez. Like, Coca-Cola."

"Oh. Yeah."

Matthew pulled a can out of the fridge and passed it to him. the Canadian started making the pancakes and his coffee at the same time. This time, his tired brain remembered that coffee grounds do _not_ go in pancake batter instead of sugar, so everything turned out perfectly.

He served Alfred first and got the maple syrup out of the fridge. Alfred smirked. "How Canadian of you."

"It's a hundred times better than that disgusting slop you Americans ruin your breakfast with."

It was after his first cup of coffee, and Matthew was feeling _much _more articulate.

Alfred grimaced suddenly. "Am I remembering wrong, or did I come on to you last night?" When Matthew just shrugged, he sighed. "Sorry. When I get that drunk… yeah."

"Don't worry about it."

Matthew dug into his pancakes, feeling Alfred's eyes on him. He glanced up at him quizzically, and the American cleared his throat. "Got any plans for today?"

"Nope."

"Cool. Wanna come over to my place and claim some of my ex's stuff? I already know which of his shoes I'm definitely taking."

"Um… is that even legal?"

"Aw, c'mon!" Alfred rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "Who cares? It's not like he's going to file a complaint or anything. Plus he's got a couple nice sweatshirts he's not gonna miss, if you want 'em."

"Well… all right."

Matthew couldn't believe he was actually agreeing to this, but he supposed that Alfred's 'live a little' comment was relevant.

And that's how he found himself in the apartment next door, going through Alfred's ex-boyfriend's – boy, that's a mouthful – clothes. Admittedly, he did have a couple really comfy sweaters.

The stuff neither he nor Alfred wanted was shoved into boxes and placed outside the door.

"Dumb bastard left his key. If he wants his stuff, there it is. Otherwise I'm donating it to charity." Alfred was grinning, looking very satisfied with himself.

He walked over to the fridge, calling over his shoulder, "Want a beer? I don't have any of that mass-produced shit, though. Microbrew's the only stuff I can stand."

"Sure."

"It's lunchtime, isn't it? I can throw together some sandwiches or make a quick Mickey D's run."

"Pardon?"

"McDonalds, dude."

"Oh. Sandwiches are fine."

Little did Matthew know, while Alfred was fussy about his beer, his idea of sandwiches was peanut butter and jelly on white bread. _Stale _white bread. Ah, the life of a bachelor… Matthew kept his thoughts to himself as he ate.

Of course, Matthew had to admit that he wasn't exactly a gourmet or a health nut, unless you count maple syrup and coffee – sometimes mixed – as fancy or health foods. The Canadian was snapped out of his thoughts by Alfred waving his hand back and forth in front of his face.

"Hello? Earth to Matthew!"

"Sorry."

"Way to zone out on me, man. I was trying to ask you, does your water heater screw up and stop working after eight p.m.?"

"Yes, actually. Why?"

"Mine does too. Just checking. You know, you're a pretty quiet person."

Matthew shrugged.

"You see? I make a comment about you being quiet, and you don't even give a reason why!"

"Am I supposed to?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Yes, duh!"

"Oh. Well, I was just born quiet. Didn't cry, didn't fuss, and I've been that way for life."

"Lemme guess, you're the type who bottles up all your anger and shit until you finally blow a gasket, right?"

The Canadian nodded.

"Yeah, that's not healthy."

"Neither is drinking yourself into a stupor after getting cheated on."

"Ouch."

Matthew blinked. Damn it all, his verbal filter slipped again. Oops. "Sorry, I just-"

"Nah, it's fine. I need a reality check from time to time, ya know?" Alfred reached for a remote and flicked the television on. "All right, what's on the news… some celebrity died of a drug overdose, and someone else has some big sex scandal. Whatever happened to _real _news?"

"The average American isn't interested in politics, economics, or international relations these days."

"You know what I think? I think we oughta get a bunch of really hot guys to represent our countries. No one cares about these shriveled-up, old diplomats, so let's hire some new ones!"

Matthew shrugged. "That would certainly make young women and gay men much more interested in international relations."

"Hey, why do you think I suggested it? It'd make our youth smarter, and I wouldn't mind some _real_ eye candy on the news. Weather girl's boobs just don't do anything for me, ya know?"

Matthew suppressed a smirk. "You really say what's on your mind, don't you?"

"Almost all the time. And what I don't say, I usually write down. Shit, speaking of writing, I gotta figure out who's gonna be the villain in the next Will Stone adventure. I'm not supposed to use terrorists, and I've already used Russians twice…"

Matthew took a swig of his beer. "How about a Canadian?"

Alfred had grabbed a notebook and a pen, and looked up at Matthew like he was a vision from the heavens. "By god, that's perfect! No one ever suspects a Canadian, 'cuz you're mostly a bunch of passive-aggressive weenies-"

"Hey!"

"It's true! Anyways, a Canadian would make the perfect villain! And now I've even got a title…" He trailed off before sweeping his arm dramatically. "The Great White North! Sweet. I'll set it in the Yukon! That's a part of Canada, right?"

"It is."

"Great! Man, I gotta write you into the acknowledgments for this one. My editor's gonna eat this up! Now, if only she'd stop asking me to develop the bromance between Will and his friend Jonah. I'm an _action_ writer, not a romance writer."

"Have you told her that?"

Alfred grimaced. "I tried to bring it up, but…"

"She's a tough woman, eh?"

"That's an understatement. I oughta call her, tell her about this new inspiration. Hey Matt, I know you've never read any of my books, but do ya mind helping me out on this one? I'll make it worth your while."

Matthew thought for a moment. He'd only just started talking to this man, and had no clue if he was secretly a psycho or something, but Alfred had already seen him drunk, crashed on his couch, eaten his food, and given Matthew a pretty damn good beer. He seemed pretty sane, so…

"Okay, no problem."

"Cool! But you gotta promise me something."

"What's that?"

"You gotta live life to the fullest, bro. We're gonna write a list of stuff you've never done, and check 'em off one by one, even if they're totally crazy or illegal. Deal?"

Matt weighed his options in his head. Continue living his daily routine and be bored out of his mind, or do a lot of crazy shit with a world-famous author. Could he get arrested? Maybe. Would it be worth it? Probably. Would it be fun? Definitely.

"Deal."

It'd certainly be interesting. Besides, Matthew figured, if Alfred forgot about this, he wouldn't have lost anything.

_End Ch. 1_

* * *

**Yep, I totally began a story with that. Expect Ch. 2 in a couple weeks. I'm going on vacation tomorrow (Road Trip! Woo!), and I won't have internet. Or my flash drive. So, updates won't happen until I get home.**


	2. Sissyneck

**Ladies and gentlemen, or gentlemen and ladies (whatever floats your boat), I present to you... Chapter Two! Yep, I'm back from vacation. And I'm going to visit family in Canada (my homeland) later this month. (Psycho cousins, batty grandmothers, and my bossy older sister. Whee!) Well, anything to get out of the house. Anyways, I'll shut up now and let you read.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Alfred didn't forget.

That Tuesday, after Matthew got home from work, he was starting to settle into his evening routine. Change his clothes, feed the fish (Matthew would've had a cat, but the landlord didn't want pets other than fish in the building), have a cup of coffee, go through his mail, start cooking dinner, take a piss, stare blankly out the window—hang on, was someone banging on his door?

"Hey, open up!"

Matthew opened the door, and found Alfred standing there, grinning ear-to-ear. "Hi, Matt! Tonight, we're crossing something off your list."

"My list? But I didn't write-"

"I wrote it for you. Oh, and my editor loves the Canadian villain idea. I'm probably gonna make him some nutjob who wants to control the Artic for its oil deposits." He looked around Matthew's apartment. "Wow, this place is clean."

The Canadian shrugged. "When I get bored, I clean."

"You must get bored a lot. Oh, and I want to apologize for the other night. I don't usually drink that much."

Before Matthew could insist that it was fine, and that he was far more used to fending off drunken men's advances than he'd like to admit, Alfred got distracted.

"Hey, are those fish?" The American walked over to the fishtank. "Cool! They're so colorful! And why is that one stuck to the glass?"

"It's a pleco. They do that. Apparently they clean algae off the sides and bottom of the tank."

"Weird. You can see its sucker-mouth thing."

Matthew found himself staring at Alfred. What an odd person…

"Anyways, now that I'm over the creepy sucker-fish thing, I have a question for you."

"Okay, fire away."

"Have you ever been to a strip club?"

"What?"

"I'll take that to mean 'no, I'm a strip-club-virgin'."

"But-"

"Turn off your stove and get ready to go, Mattie."

"But-"

"Oh, quit your stammering. I'll drive."

...

Alfred had _terrible_ road rage, Matthew noted as they pulled into the parking lot of a strip club. First time he'd ever heard someone call a motorcyclist a 'monkey-faced asshole motherfucker'.

He rationalized that he was going through the five stages of… something. Well, whatever it was, Matthew knew he was in denial. That sign with the bright, flashing neon lights? No, that definitely didn't say 'sexy'!

Alfred rolled his eyes as he opened his car door. "Stop sitting there like a petrified rabbit. Seriously, it's not that bad, and since it's a Tuesday, there's not gonna be much of a crowd." When Matthew didn't reply, Alfred sighed. "C'mon, dude. Move."

"Naked women scare me," Matthew blurted out, then blushed.

After staring at him for a couple seconds, Alfred started laughing. "It's an all-men strip club, dumbass. Look at the sign!"

Matthew looked quickly at the sign. Oh. Well, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all…

As soon as he walked in, Matthew was glad he was probably invisible. Was that Lady Gaga playing? Yes, it was. Was that guy wearing nothing but Captain America briefs? _Shiny _Captain America briefs? Yes, he was. And that was most definitely a pole.

Matthew wasn't sure whether to blush, laugh, or run out the door. Luckily – or maybe unluckily – Alfred made the decision for him. He smirked, grabbed Matthew by the wrist, and dragged him over to a table. "Lighten up, dude."

"This is-"

"A strip club. Yeah. They're all over the place."

Matthew blinked several times before coming up with something to say. "Is this where you met your ex?"

Alfred shook his head. "Nope. This place is a bit more high-class. Want anything to drink? They have some pretty good cocktails here."

Now, if Matthew had been just a little less terrified, he might've made a joke about how there were _plenty_ of good cocktails, unless those guys were stuffing. However, since he was just a bit out of his element, he didn't.

Instead he continued asking awkward questions. "So, you've been here before?"

"Yeah. A couple of my friends brought me here last month for my twenty-seventh birthday. Place was fucking _packed _for the Fourth of July."

Matthew blinked. This man, this extremely talented, rich, successful man was only a year older than him? Damn, now he felt really stupid. But he ignored that feeling – and the slight jealousy that came with it.

"Patriotic strippers, eh?"

Alfred laughed. "You bet. Now, some of these guys are actually pretty shy, and they'll blush if you stare at them, but some really like the attention."

"I'll just stare at my feet, thanks."

Dammit, there went his verbal filter again! Since Matthew lived alone, he was used to being able to say whatever popped into his head when he was at home, but for some reason his brain was having trouble transitioning between home alone... and a strip club.

Thankfully, Alfred just laughed again and clapped Matthew on the back. "C'mon, man! We're not leavin' until you watch at least one complete dance. The shyer you are, the longer we're here."

Matthew blanched. "I-is that so?" He sighed. Time to suck it up and just stare at the stage blankly. And hey, that guy was actually kinda cute… if you ignored the fact that looked about sixteen.

Before Matthew knew it, he was back in the car, Alfred driving back to their apartment building.

"See, that wasn't so bad!"

"No, it wasn't."

"Kinda fun, huh?"

"I guess… in a 'I-won't-be-able-to-look-my-mother-in-the-eyes-ever-again' kind of way."

"Whaddya mean?"

"That kid couldn't have been a day over nineteen."

"Who, Johnny? He's actually twenty-eight. Got such a damn baby face though."

Matthew was incredulous. "You're joking."

"Nope. He went to the same high school in California as me, graduated the year before me. And now he's a stripper in Boston."

"Small world."

"Big world, lots of people, lots of coincidences. Say, you wanna grab something to eat?"

"Sure. I wasn't exactly looking forward to another night of rice and frozen peas."

"Boo-ring. I know a place we can grab a good burger."

"Not McDonald's?"

"Nope. Local place, a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant."

The food was excellent, Matthew mused to himself as they ate in his apartment – he had clean plates, whereas Alfred hadn't run the dishwasher for a few days – and all in all, the evening hadn't been _that_ unpleasant. A bit terrifying at first, yes, but not all that bad.

He cleaned up after them, and Alfred walked over to the fishtank to stare at it again. "That pleco thing still weirds me out."

"His name is Jeffrey. None of the others have names."

"So, little Jeffrey gets special treatment 'cuz he's weird."

"Pretty much."

Alfred looked away from the fish. "Anyways, later this week we oughta check something else off the list. How about you come over to my place Friday after work, help me out with my writing a bit, and then we do something?"

Matthew nodded. "Sure. I'm not busy."

…

And he wasn't lying. The rest of his week passed by slowly and was incredibly monotonous, even by his standards. To liven things up (read: save himself from dying of boredom) on Thursday night, Matthew started going through the cupboards and closets in his apartment. He found an old acoustic guitar at the back of the hall closet and pulled it out.

Since he hadn't played it for quite some time, the guitar was dreadfully out of tune, but once Matthew had fixed that he stared playing scales and warm-up exercises from memory, fingers having memorized them long ago. He didn't have that double major in business and music for nothing, after all.

Matthew remembered writing a few songs back when he first moved to Boston, and spent the next half hour fishing them out of the drawers in his desk, the one place he never really bothered to clean. Some of them were pretty crappy; some of them were actually all right.

He played through them, scribbling new notes and chords on the paper as he went. When Matthew next looked at the clock, it was ten-thirty. And he had forgotten to eat dinner. _Again._ Really, it was a wonder he wasn't malnourished, considering how often he forgot to eat.

Rice, pancakes, yogurt, and coffee aren't exactly enough to sustain a healthy, active lifestyle, especially since Matthew was more athletic than most people guessed. Though he didn't really play hockey anymore...

He packed up his guitar, stowing it under his bed instead of in the closet, ate half a tomato for 'dinner', and stumbled off to bed, giving up on trying to stay awake.

…

After a very rude awakening from his alarm clock – really, one day he was going to smash the damn thing to pieces – and several rounds of hitting the snooze button, Matthew got his coffee maker going and stepped into the shower. Yeah, a coffee maker in the bathroom. No, he definitely didn't have a caffeine problem.

After his shower, he grabbed his thermos, filled it up with wonderful, hot coffee, grabbed an apple, and got ready for work. No time for morning exercise or breakfast, unless he wanted to be late. What a way to start the day. Maybe, he thought, he'd go to the gym after work and do laps in the pool. It was a nice way of blowing off work-related stress, and stopped him from being bored.

Scratch that, he remembered, he was supposed to drop by Alfred's.

So, when he got home, after getting his mail and changing into a sweatshirt and jeans, he politely knocked on his neighbour's door.

"Door's open!"

Matthew stepped inside and kicked his shoes off. "Hi, Alfred."

Alfred was at his kitchen table on his computer, glanced over his shoulder, and waved at Matthew. "Oh hey, Mattie! I'm on a video call with my editor right now. Eliza, this is Matt, my Canadian neighbor."

Alfred's editor was a pretty young woman with a pleasant face, long brown hair and wide, green eyes. "Hello Matthew," she said in softly accented English, "My name is Elizaveta Héderváry, but you can call me Eliza. I'm sure Alfred's told you about me."

Matthew was surprised. This woman didn't quite seem to fit Alfred's description of his editor. He had imagined a tough, intimidating, older woman, not this soft-spoken, nice lady. He cleared his throat. "Nice to meet you. Alfred's mentioned you a few times."

"Great! It's nice to finally meet one of your boyfriends, Al."

Matthew coughed, blinking several times. Alfred started sputtering, "Eliza! He's-! We're not-"

"Oh, my mistake…" She grimaced. "It's just that you're a bit of a man-eater, so I just assumed… gah, that's so embarrassing! Sorry!"

Alfred sighed. "No kidding. Way to make things awkward, Eliza."

"Well excuuuuse me for thinking this quite handsome," She paused and winked at Matthew, "Neighbor of yours was your latest fling."

"Nope, he's too interesting for that."

"Too… interesting?"

Now _those_ were the last words he ever expected someone to describe him with. Stable, yes. Nice, yes. Quiet, yes. But interesting?

"Yeah." Alfred turned to look at him. "I told you, most of my boyfriends only care about money, sex, and… well, sex. Not much going on up there, if you know what I mean."

"I guess…"

Eliza cleared her throat. "Sorry to interrupt, but I have to go. Some of us actually have families to take care of!"

"If by 'families' you mean several cats and a rabbit, then you're the only one."

She glared at Alfred, and Matthew could feel the venom in her stare, even through the fuzzy image on the screen. So, she was scary after all. "Put a sock in it, Jones. Oh, and I was going to let you off the hook, but I want bromance in the next chapters, you hear me?"

"Aw, Eliza…"

"Consider it my revenge. _Bromance_, you hear me? Lots of it."

The video call ended, the computer making a happy little 'bloop!' noise. Alfred put his head on the table. "Gaaaaaahhhh… I hate writing suggested romance crap! I'm not a subtle person, so I suck at it!"

Matthew smiled. "I might be able to help you there."

Alfred lifted his head up. "Oh my god, you're right! You probably know a lot about subtle almost-flirting!"

"Well, yeah."

"Perfect. Let me explain the setting really quickly. Will's loud, brash, outgoing, your typical hero type. His best friend Jonah is shy, bookish, and kind of a geek about technology. They're high schoolers. And right now, Will's getting suited up to go undercover and get information. He's a spy, see. Jonah makes gadgets and stuff for fun, so he's giving Will a couple of his new inventions. Now, how the hell do I incorporate bromance into that?"

Matthew shrugged. "It should be pretty simple, really. You know how with some guys you can't tell if they're dating or just really close?"

"Yeah."

"Make it like that."

"Oh. Man, that's a lot easier than I thought. Thanks, bro!"

"No problem. Glad I could help."

Alfred grabbed his notebook and a pen. "Lemme get that written down. Help yourself to the fridge, 'kay?"

"All right."

The American looked up momentarily. "Oh, can you grab me a coke while you're over there? And press the power button on my stereo."

Matthew nodded and poured himself a glass of juice. He grabbed Alfred a can of soda, and turned on the stereo. He recognized the music, and smiled. While passing the can to Alfred he asked, "That's _The Shins_, isn't it?"

"Yep. Do you have their new album?"

"Got it a couple weeks ago."

"I still need to order it. You know, I always wished I'd learned to play the guitar."

Matthew smiled shyly. "I did. I got my degree in music as well as business. Got a certificate from the Royal Conservatory of Music that says I'm licensed to teach guitar, too."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. My parents love music and wanted me to learn to play at least one instrument, so I chose the guitar."

"Lucky! My dad wanted me to be tough and play sports, so I was in Little League. And Boy Scouts. That part didn't go over so well once I came out, though." He sighed. "Being gay is hard sometimes, like when I get hate mail from my teenage readers' parents. At least paparazzi leave authors alone most of the time, we get to make money without being pestered all the time. If I was a musician or an actor, I'd probably go crazy from lack of privacy!"

Matthew nodded. "I feel bad for people who can't even go buy milk and eggs without having cameras stuck in their faces. That's part of the reason I never tried to get a career in music. I don't deal well with strangers invading my privacy."

Alfred smirked. "You'd be too nice to say anything."

"Don't count on that."

Alfred shrugged. "Whatever you say." He dropped his pen on the table and sighed. "Yeah, I'm totally not going to get _anything_ done tonight. At least I know what to do now, though! Eliza can consider this my revenge on her revenge!"

Matthew raised an eyebrow and Alfred shrugged. "I know it doesn't work that way, but whatever. I need inspiration, and inspiration isn't hidden under the couch with the Snickers wrappers and dust bunnies." He looked up at Matthew and grinned. "So Mattie, what would you say to going for a drive?"

Matthew shrugged. "I'd say it's a waste of gas."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Buzzkill. Welp, let's go for one anyways. Do you even own a car?"

Matthew nodded. "Yes, but I mostly use it to go grocery shopping. I take the subway or the bus most places."

"Coolio. Well, we'll take my car. You wanna drive?"

Matthew blinked. "You're trusting me to drive your car? Your nice, _expensive_ car?"

"It's not like you're gonna crash it. Even if you do, it's an S.U.V., it can take a beating. I've smacked into people's mailboxes a couple times and driven through two hedges. That taught me not to text and drive." He picked up his keys and tossed them to Matthew. "I get to choose the music though, 'kay?"

"Fine with me."

After pulling out of the apartment building's parking lot, Matthew sighed. "I have no idea where I'm driving."

"Good. That's the point of going driving! Oh, turn right up ahead."

Matthew just shrugged and did what Alfred told him.

"Did you eat dinner?"

"No. You?"

"Nope. Hey, there's a McDonald's up ahead! I'll pay."

"I can pay for myself, you know. I'm not broke or anything."

"Right. I'm just used to people expecting me to pay for everything. Seriously, even Eliza makes me buy her coffee when we meet up to go over my work together! And she makes plenty of money, trust me."

A few minutes later, they had their food and were arguing over whose drink was whose.

"That one's definitely diet, it's yours."

"No, it doesn't taste like diet. It's gotta be yours."

"Fine, I'll take it. And, you know, it's not nice to take other people's fries."

Alfred whipped his hand out of the bag. "Jeez! Frickin' psychic. Turn left here."

"Do you even know where we are? I sure don't."

"I sorta do. Keep going straight."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it."

He probably shouldn't have. Not twenty minutes later, they were hopelessly lost… and not in a nice part of town.

"Maple, where the hell are we?"

Alfred snorted. "Did you seriously just say 'maple'? Dude, that's funny."

Matthew blushed. "I-it's a nervous habit. Anyways, why aren't you worried?"

"What should I be worried 'bout?"

"Well, most of these guys look like they could beat me up pretty badly. I mean, come on, I'm a white Canadian! Nothing says 'punch me and take my money' to non-Canadians quite like that, trust me."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Relax, getting lost is totally normal. It's part of living in a city."

"Well, I've never gotten lost before!"

The American grinned. "I figured. And that's exactly why we're out here."

"You-!"

"Yep, I got us lost on purpose. It's a helluva lot less scary than getting lost on your own, trust me."

Matthew sighed. Now, what did people who got lost usually do? His phone didn't have internet or GPS, so maybe-

"Wanna pull over and ask for directions?"

Alfred was smirking, so Matthew knew the answer to that question. "No. Definitely not."

"There ya go."

Not like Matthew would ask any of _those_ guys for directions anyways. He'd get called a pansy and possibly get his teeth punched in. People tended to beat up on him for no reason, and he didn't want a black eye. The last one was hard enough to explain to his boss, and it only went away a couple weeks ago.

Matthew turned down another street and sighed. Alfred frowned. "Way to get us in the red-light district. Do a U-turn soon as you can, 'kay?"

"I suck at getting un-lost, don't I?"

"Yep. Oh god, turn around. I don't wanna be seen in this part of town. I mean, if I get recognized by anyone… I gotta protect my reputation!"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Well, it was your idea to get lost in the first place."

"I didn't know you'd drive right to slut central, dude!" He laughed. "Hey, if you ever went to Amsterdam…"

"Already been."

Alfred looked taken aback. "Really?"

"Yep. Went there on vacation with one of my boyfriends. And no, we didn't smoke weed or hire hookers. His uber-strict younger brother tagged along." Matthew noted how Alfred's eyebrows crept up his forehead. "N-not that we would've if he wasn't there!" He blurted out, "I have high moral standards. Most of the time."

He really had to stop putting his foot in his mouth like that. Thank god he didn't act like this at work or he'd be out the door in two seconds flat. "I'm going to shut up now."

Alfred had an odd expression on his face, somewhere in-between a smirk and a grin. It looked good on him; Matthew had to admit to himself. Alfred looked out the window. "Oh good, we're out of hooker-ville. Took ya long enough."

"We're still lost."

"Speak for yourself; I know exactly where we are now. There's a Safeway up ahead on the left, right?"

"Yes, there is. Why?"

"We're where I thought. Turn up ahead."

"Which way?"

"Left."

"Turn left."

"Right."

"Okay, turn right."

"No, left!"

"But you just said 'right'!"

"Turn _left_."

"Okay, I'll go left."

"Right!"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "By 'right' do you mean 'yes' or do you mean the direction?"

"I mean yes, exactly, bingo, correcto-mundo, yeppers, home run, atta boy!" Alfred threw his hands in the air.

Matthew suppressed a laugh which came out as an embarrassing half-snort, half-squawk noise. The ridiculousness of that noise sent him into a fit of the giggles, though thankfully Alfred joined him in this. "Dude, what was that even supposed to be?"

"I have no idea!"

Matthew calmed himself after a moment, looked over at Alfred, who had that smirk-grin expression again, and they both burst out laughing again. Maybe it was the sugar in his soda, which wasn't diet after all, maybe it was the adrenaline in getting lost, maybe it was both, but Matthew couldn't stop laughing.

Their giggle-fits lasted until Matthew pulled back into the parking lot of the apartment complex – who came up with that name, anyways? Made it sound like the building had some sort of psychological disorder – where he parked the car and leaned back in the seat. "You know what, that actually felt pretty good. I don't laugh often enough, you know?"

Alfred nodded. "I know the feeling. Watch more daytime T.V., sometimes it's so bad it's actually hilarious." He picked up the McDonald's bag as he was getting out of the car and peeked inside. "Whoops." He chuckled. "I may have stolen your fries without noticing."

Matthew, who was getting out as well, just smiled. "Fine with me. I'll eat an apple instead." He passed Alfred the keys.

Alfred looked surprised. "You buy real, fresh fruit?" When Matthew nodded, he whistled. "Wow. I only buy frozen and canned stuff, mostly because I don't eat the fresh stuff fast enough. Stereotypical bachelor, I know."

Matthew smirked. He thought _that_ was stereotypical? Ah, what the hell, he decided, may as well be honest. "I fit stereotypes too, you know. Not bachelor stereotypes, though, gay ones. I eat yogurt and granola for breakfast and do yoga in the mornings."

Alfred smirked. "I got you beat there, I run, go to the gym and lift weights when I get motivated enough, and always feel out of shape compared to the guy in the lap pool. I mean, he seriously can swim for _hours!_ Though I do only go to the gym like once a week…"

"Friday evenings, right?"

Alfred nodded. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"I'm the guy in the lap pool. I swim on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evenings. On Fridays there are always the same guys who use the weight machines by the window that looks over the pool."

"Seriously? I thought Canadians only did hockey and curling."

Matthew shook his head. "Not when you grow up by Lake Ontario. Well, I mean, I played street hockey as a kid, and real hockey in high school, and I was pretty good."

"Why'd you quit?"

They were ascending the stairs, not entirely sure of whose apartment they were going to. Matthew shrugged. "I kinda went berserk when I was on the ice. I quit after my coach notified me that I was single-handedly responsible for more concussions than any other hockey player ever."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Wow. So, if you get pissed and have a hockey stick handy, run." He shook his head. "You know, I got kicked outta Little League for nailing the other team's coach in the nuts at one of those championship things. The guy was a total douche, and everyone knew he deserved it, but I still got kicked off the team."

Alfred stuck his key in the door. "Total B.S. if you ask me, but whatever. Anyways," he continued, opening the door to his apartment, "Pop your food in the microwave for a couple seconds. Napkins are on top of the fridge- oh wait, they gave us some." Alfred pulled the out of the paper bag. "And they're all covered in grease spots. Nice. On second thought, can you grab the napkins?"

Matthew nodded, realized there was no way Alfred could've seen him nod, and then spoke. "Yeah, no problem."

They ate in relative silence, and the lack of awkwardness surprised Matthew. Maybe he and Al had some weird gay-bachelor bond? After all, neither of them had really shown any romantic attraction towards one another. It'd be nice to have someone – not in his family – that he didn't feel awkward or shy around, and Alfred seemed like a good candidate for that.

His trip in la-la land was cut short by his cell phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out and sighed once he saw the number. Alfred raised an eyebrow as Matthew answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Mattie, birdie, babe! Wassup?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Please tell me you're not drunk."

"Drunk? Ha, no earthly drink can get something zis purely awesome drunk!"

"Even you can get drunk, Gilbert. Are you at home?"

"Ja, of course. Francis dropped me off. I vas calling you for something… but I forgot."

"Great. Go to sleep."

"Nooo… don't hang up! I miss you, birdie! I wanna… I vant you back. I'm sorry for everything I said and-"

"Gilbert, please, just be quiet. You only ever call when you're drunk. Just delete my number, please, save us both the embarrassment."

"But I still love you!"

"No, you don't. You're drunk and feeling sorry for yourself again. Now go to bed."

"Birdie, I-"

"I'm hanging up now." Matthew hung up and put his phone on the table. "Sorry about that, but if I didn't answer he'd keep calling."

"Okay, sorry for the total lack of tact, but who was that guy?"

Matthew sighed. "Ex-boyfriend. Makes drunk calls every couple months from his place in Chicago."

Alfred grimaced. "Yikes. I could kinda hear what he was saying, so… yeah. How long ago did you guys split up?"

"He dumped me three years ago. Even used the 'we can still be friends' line, but I knew he meant he was leaving and never coming back."

"Seriously? That long ago? Guy's got problems if he's still not over you."

"Gilbert dwelled a lot on the past while we were together, but I didn't think he'd think twice after packing up his stuff and practically knocking me flat on my ass by leaving like that."

"He needs to get laid."

"Oh, he does get laid. Apparently guys in Chicago really 'dig the accent' or something like that."

Matthew sighed again, and Alfred fiddled with his watch. But right before the silence got awkward, he grinned. "Everyone has a 'crazy ex' story. Mine was when I was still in college. He followed me around for months after I dumped him, and I seriously considered getting a restraining order." When Matthew raised his eyebrows, he explained, "I saw him peeking into my bedroom window one night. He smartened up pretty quickly after that, probably since I threw a lamp at his head."

Matthew winced. "That's a lot worse than the occasional drunk dial."

"Tell me about it. You gonna finish your chicken nuggets?"

"Nah, go ahead."

"You know, you don't eat enough."

Matthew shrugged. "I eat when I'm hungry."

"Which isn't often. Well, it explains why you're so damn skinny. I mean, you're practically swimming in that sweatshirt! Why do you need it, though?"

"The sweatshirt?"

"Yeah. It's August. If I was bundled up like that, I'd be sweaty mess."

They chatted for a while longer, and when Matthew finally said goodbye for the night, there was no awkward standing by the door. Just a wave, a quick 'see ya later!', and Matthew was back in his apartment.

He felt surprisingly happy, despite the phone call from Gilbert that would usually have him wallowing on the couch and remembering back when they were together. Instead, he realized that it was just a drunken phone call, and that it meant absolutely nothing. Hell, he hadn't even seen Gilbert since he was dumped by him.

Matthew shrugged and walked right past the couch. He brushed his teeth, stripped, and hopped into bed. Screw pajamas, he decided, it's nice to let everything breathe. Besides, this way he could just hop into the shower in the morning and do yoga without ever getting changed!

He realized he hadn't mentioned to Alfred that he did yoga naked. Probably the only exciting thing he did on a regular basis. Well, not anymore.

As he was drifting off, Matthew was thinking about how, for once in his boring life, he was having fun.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Got a crazy ex? Are **_**you**_** the crazy ex? Discuss!**

**And about getting lost… I've had my own experience with that recently. Getting lost on your own is terrifying, especially if you're hiking, lose the rest of your group, and can't find the trail. Yeah, I kinda panicked. I believe I said something like 'Oh, fuck. I'm lost in the middle of the fucking woods without a map and no cell phone signal. Fuck! I'm so screwed…"**

**But I found the trail. All's well.**

**Thanks for your support and feedback!**


	3. What's My Age Again?

**Whoo-hoo, Chapter 3! Read on, my friends, read on.**

* * *

About a month had passed since the night Matthew had gotten lost with Alfred. He was keeping his side of the bargain by helping Al write his novel, and the other was keeping his side too. Since that night, they had drag-raced halfway across Boston, prank-called one of Matthew's asshole colleagues, used the world's worst pick-up lines on people in bars (Matthew's personal favourite: Hey, wanna have a thumb war? Okay! One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war. Five, six, seven, eight, if you lose we copulate!), and many more things Matthew never would've done on his own.

This particular day, Alfred wasn't telling him a thing about where they were going. All Matthew knew was that they had stopped by the side of the road out in the middle of nowhere. Slightly confused, he asked, "Do you have to pee or something?"

"Piss, Matthew. Men say piss. Women say piss. Little girls say pee. And no, I don't have to piss. We're out here on purpose."

Matthew looked around. Well, there wasn't anything particularly special around… except for those railroad tracks. He sighed. "Don't tell me you expect me to play 'chicken' on the railroad tracks."

When Alfred just grinned and winked, Matthew protested. "Oh, come on! That's just plain dangerous."

"So? I did it all the time as a kid."

"As a _kid_. I'm twenty-six! That's ten years too old for this… this… crap!"

"Took you long enough to find the right word. If you don't know what to say, just cuss. Works for me."

Matthew smirked. "That'd go over well at work. My bosses would love it. Can you imagine me in a meeting? 'And this motherfucker right here is the net growth your shitty little company's managed over the past quarter. Since you're such a twatbag, I'm pretty fucking surprised how well you've done!' I'm pretty sure that would get me fired."

Alfred laughed. "Boy, if you ever get sick of your job, that's one way to go out with a bang!"

Matthew shrugged and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I guess." He jumped when the train tracks started hissing, making a humming-whistling noise. "What the heck?"

Alfred nodded and pushed Matthew onto the tracks. "That means there's a train coming. Now don't be a wimp, Matt!"

Matthew swallowed. Right, nerves of steel. He could totally do this. Oh, that train was big. And fast. Nerves of steel. Don't be a chicken. Oh god, it was getting close. Nerves of steel. Ha, screw that, nerves of cooked spaghetti! He jumped off the tracks with a squeak he really hoped Alfred didn't hear.

"Aw, you chicken!"

"That train was really close!"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "It was like a quarter-mile away. Chicken! Bawk-bawk-bawk!"

Matthew flushed up to his ears. "I'm not suicidal, so that makes me a chicken?"

Alfred grinned and stopped making chicken noises. "Pretty much, yep. C'mon, I'll do the next one with you."

So when the tracks started hissing again, Alfred grabbed Matthew's hand and dragged him out there. "We'll jump off together, okay? So don't let go of my hand."

"O-okay." Matthew swore his legs were shaking.

That train was huge! And the guy was honking the horn at them. They should jump off _now. _"Oh god, oh god, ohgodohgod!"

"Chill out, we're fine."

"Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit!_"

Alfred just laughed and stood still. Did he want to get flattened? And just when every fibre in Matthew's body was screaming 'We're gonna die!' and the train was _right fucking in front of them_, Alfred grinned cockily, yelled "Now!" and jumped, dragging Matthew with him into the ditch beside the tracks. Matthew was pretty sure he screamed, Alfred was cracking up, and the train driver yelled out the window at them, "Fucking kids!"

The American sat up and tapped Matthew, who was lying face-first on the grass, on the back of the head. "You okay?"

"I think I almost pissed myself."

"Great! That's how you're supposed to feel."

Matthew lifted himself up. "That. Was. Terrifying."

Alfred nodded. "Yep, I know. You get used to it, though. It's totally awesome though, right?"

Matthew spat a clod of dirt out of his mouth. "Bleh. Dirt does not taste good. But yeah, it is pretty fun."

"Glad you liked it. Now go take a leak before your legs give out."

"They'll give out?"

"The first few times, yeah. Once the intense adrenaline rush wears off, your knees'll get weak. Mine did."

Matthew ducked behind a tree to pee—no, to piss. He got back in the car at just the right time. "Oof." He collapsed in his seat. "I'm a bit shaky."

"Help yourself to the gatorade rolling around on the floor. It's probably lukewarm, but it's unopened."

Matthew happily grabbed the bottle and took a gulp. Alfred started driving back into town. "Hey, how old do you think the guy who yelled at us thought we were?"

"Probably about sixteen."

"Wow. So acting like a kid makes people think you're ten years younger than you are… try selling that secret to make-up companies."

Matthew nodded. "I don't think most women would go for jumping in front of trains just to look younger, though."

"Yeah, probably not. Feel free to nap if you want, the drive's pretty boring."

"All right. Wake me up if I start drooling."

Alfred grinned. "Sure thing."

He did wake Matthew up at one point, nudging him with his elbow. "Oy, don't slobber on the headrest."

Matthew, being a heavy sleeper, didn't quite register Alfred's voice. He yawned, "M'kay, Papa. Wake me up when we get to Hamilton…"

"Matt. You're in Massachusetts, not Canada. And I'm not your dad."

"Whaa-?" Matthew yawned again and blinked his eyes. "Oh, sorry. Felt like I was a kid again for a minute there, on one of those summer trips to see relatives whose names you always forget."

Alfred nodded. "I remember those. Total waste of time and- stay in your lane, dumbass!" He honked the horn at the car in front of them. "Don't drive off the road! Jeez, some people." Matthew nodded in agreement, and Alfred sighed. "If only everyone was as good a driver as me."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you say you've driven through two hedges?"

"Um… yes. But I've never hit anything that was alive! Well, the hedges were _technically _alive, but… you know what I mean. No moving, breathing creatures."

"All right. Fair enough." Matthew looked down the road ahead of them. "But if you don't slow down, you might hit one."

"Whaddya mean?"

"Deer."

"Why'd you call me that?"

"No, deer! As in 'Bambi'! Right ahead!"

"Shit!" Alfred braked quickly.

The deer bounded off the road, and Alfred cautiously sped back up. "Whoa, that was close."

Matthew nodded. "We should work on communicating while driving."

"Yeah. 'right' means 'yes', 'watch out' means 'pedestrian', 'do you have a map' means 'we're lost beyond all hope of salvation' and 'deer' means 'oh my fucking god, stop'. Sound about right?"

Matthew laughed. "Sounds right to me."

…

Really, a lot of what they did together were things Matthew never dared to do in high school or university. So when Alfred showed up at his apartment a few days later and announced that they were going to piss off people on the subway, Matthew wasn't really surprised. All he did was ask, "Drunk or sober?"

"Sober. I don't need a hangover, and we want to make sure we know where we're going. But it can more fun if you act drunk."

Matthew grabbed his keys and shoes. "Let me lock up. And how are we going to piss them off?"

Alfred smirked. "By singing."

"Singing."

"Yep! Nothing makes someone who's already in a sour mood angrier than seeing people having fun and singing."

The subway was actually pretty full by the time they got there, and at first no one gave the two young men who hopped on a second glance, except for a girl who was not-so-subtly checking them out (something that Matthew always found infinitely flattering, even if he had no interest whatsoever in the person admiring him).

Alfred winked at him, so Matthew grinned and sat down in-between two people, breaking one of the unwritten rules of the subway. Alfred proceeded to talk a bit too loudly and happily for the closed space of the subway, earning a few glares from other passengers. One of the people sitting next to Matthew stood up and moved somewhere else, so Alfred flopped down next to him and winked at the person on his right, a middle-aged businessman going home late from work.

The man did nothing but blink apathetically, which made Matthew start laughing. The girl who had been looking at them earlier raised her eyebrows and fished an mp3 player out of her purse. After a couple more stops, the subway car emptied out a bit, so Alfred elbowed Matthew in the ribs.

"You ever heard the song that gets on everyone's nerves?"

Matthew shrugged. "I don't know, is it the one that goes on forever and ever?"

"Yeah! We should totally sing it!"

Hopefully they were thinking of the same song. Hell, if they weren't, it might actually be funnier.

They were thinking of the same song after all, and sang – probably slightly off key – in unison, "I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves! I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves and this is how it goes! I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves…"

At first the other passengers just looked shocked that someone was breaking the taboo rule of not being loud. Then they started to get annoyed. As the two men kept singing, Matthew watched one man's ears slowly turning red. The girl listening to music turned the volume up. The man next to Alfred had a pained expression on his face, like he was about to be martyred.

Eventually someone yelled, "Shut the fuck up already!"

There were murmurs of agreement, but Alfred just grinned, exclaimed "Haha, no!" and kept singing. Matthew laughed nervously, but followed along.

A couple stops later, the man next to Alfred finally snapped and shoved them off the train. They landed on the platform on their asses and just laughed, simultaneously flipping him the bird.

"Grow up!" He yelled at them just before the train doors closed.

Matthew stood up and pulled Alfred to his feet. "You know, they could've just gotten off and waited a few minutes for the next train. Why they didn't is beyond me."

Alfred shrugged. "People are weird. That's one of those laws of nature. Well, I don't feel like getting back on a train. Want to just walk back?"

"Sure. I could use the exercise anyways."

"Awesome. Did you see that chick sizing us up?"

Matthew smiled. "I did. It's pretty obvious when someone stares right at your crotch, eh?"

"Yeah, but there are ways to be more sneaky about it. Betcha she's still in high school. Teenagers have no class when it comes to ogling."

The Canadian nodded. "But you have to admit it's sort of flattering."

"True. Let's head back. Eliza's gonna have my ass if I don't get another chapter done by next week."

"I believe you."

Alfred pulled his keys out of his pocket and twirled them around his finger. "Dang, I'm starving. You can actually cook, right?"

Matthew shrugged. "That depends on what you have."

Alfred made a face. "Probably not much. Grocery shopping sucks."

…

To his credit, he actually had the proper ingredients for Matthew to make shepherd's pie. Which almost burned when he set the oven timer for twenty hours instead of twenty minutes. Which resulted in him cursing and opening a window before the fire alarm went off.

Alfred barely looked up from his work. "Yeah, I do that all the time. Why they even make an oven that lets you do that is beyond me. Is it wrecked?"

"No, but the edges are pretty singed."

Alfred shrugged. "Just cut them off and throw them out." He finally looked up. "Hey, you made enough for me to eat for lunch the rest of the week!"

Matthew nodded. "I'm used to making food in big batches and then freezing it. Like soups, pasta sauce, chili-"

"Wait, wait. Canadians _make_ chili?"

Matthew shrugged. "Well, of course. Everyone does. You use about a tablespoon of chili powder and a teaspoon of cinnamon for each pound of meat you use."

"Cinnamon? You put cinnamon in your chili?"

The Canadian served them and set the plates down. "Don't you?"

Alfred shook his head vigorously. "No. I've never even heard of that."

Matthew tilted his head. "Really? That's how everyone I knew growing up used to make it. Oh, whoops. Where do you keep the forks?"

Alfred stood up. "Don't sweat it, I'll get 'em. You Canadians are weird. Next you'll be telling me you put hot sauce on your fries. Want a glass of water?"

"Yes, please. And no, we don't use hot sauce on our fries, but some of us use malt vinegar."

Alfred made a face. "Even worse."

Matthew shrugged. "Have you ever tried it?"

"No, but I like my fries with _ketchup_. I mean, poutine pushes it for me, and that stuff is really good." Alfred sat back down with two forks and two glasses of water. "When I lived in New York, there was this guy who had a poutine stand. I swear I gained ten pounds just from passing by it on the way to and from Eliza's office. Worth it, though." He shrugged and started eating.

A few bites into the shepherd's pie, he paused. "Speaking of worth it, this is really good. How the heck did you make it? I mean, it seemed pretty easy and this might motivate me to actually buy groceries."

Matthew smiled. "Thanks. My family used to make it all the time. Here, I'll write the recipe down."

Alfred sighed. "If only I could cook… I mean, I can microwave stuff and grill, but cooking nice food wasn't exactly on my dad's list of 'how to be a manly man'."

"My parents made me help out in the kitchen when I was growing up. My mom was a feminist and didn't want to spend her days cooking and cleaning, so she passed it on to me and my dad. And my dad made me do it all." When Alfred snickered, Matthew sighed. "I'm not joking, either. When I was a teenager, my mom would leave a list of chores for me to do when I got home from school. I can sympathize with repressed housewives."

Alfred grimaced. "My mom _was_ a repressed housewife. Until I left home, actually. Then she got fake boobs and started wearing really short skirts. Skirts you'd see a seventeen-year-old wearing, not a forty-something-year-old. It's always awkward whenever I visit my parents." He sighed. "Ah, family. At least you choose your friends, right?"

Matthew nodded. "Thank god for that."

Alfred cleared the table, but when he got to the sink, he wrinkled up his nose. "Bleh. Dishes. Screw that, it's all going in the washing machine. I mean dishwasher. Crap, that reminds me, I have to do laundry." He sighed. "Maybe your mom was onto something, making you do chores. I mean, your place is sparkling clean! My mom cleaned up every mess I made, and now I'm _way_ too lazy to do it."

He sat back down. "Seriously, how do you do it?"

Matthew looked around Alfred's apartment. It wasn't _that_ bad, really. But he just shrugged. "Well, I just clean up little things at a time. If you try to do too much, you'll end up doing a crummy job." He blinked. "I just realized how domestic that made me sound."

Alfred shrugged. "At least you don't know the differences between brands of glass cleaner."

"I guess." Matthew glanced up at the clock and sighed. "Ugh. I have work tomorrow. I'd better get home."

Alfred nodded. "M'kay. Sleep tight!"

"Thanks, you too."

When Matthew stepped back into his apartment, he sighed and kicked his shoes off. Really, why did he have a job that bored him so much? Oh right, because it was a stable source of income. That was pretty much the only thing keeping him from quitting, though. That and he actually did like some of his colleagues. Especially the ones that had dreams.

That one guy who played the accordion ridiculously well, the Shakespearean actor turned accountant, the budding chef… all of them had plans to move on to bigger, better things. All Matthew could really see himself doing if he quit was teaching guitar, maybe working as a music teacher at an elementary school for a day job. Not exactly the world's biggest aspirations.

Maybe he really was boring. Yep, boring and not very manly. Definitely not worth Alfred's time- whoa, where did _that_ thought come from?

Matthew sat on his bed. He was just a friend, right? A really good-looking friend who liked hanging out with him, complimented his mediocre cooking, and thought he was interesting.

Crap.

Matthew winced. He flopped onto his bed and put his pillow over his head, pressing his glasses into his face. Really, he'd only known the guy for a couple months, and here he was acting like a blushing schoolgirl denying she had a crush.

Damn his shrinking violet tendencies.

He lifted his pillow off his face and stared at the ceiling. No, no. Nonononono. He was _not_ going to do this again! It was infatuation. Bad things came from acting on infatuation. He'd be over it in a couple weeks. Besides, he hadn't gotten laid in a really long time, so it was probably just desperation. Yeah, desperation mixed with infatuation. The mix that always convinced people they were in love. He just needed a bit more 'alone time' and he'd be fine.

Right?

Wrong.

* * *

**Haha, cliffhanger (sort of)! **

**Thank you for reading, and thank you for all your feedback! To everyone who's reviewed, you guys rock my socks.**

**Anyone ever played chicken on the railroad tracks? I have, and it was a huge adrenaline rush. Just don't get squashed, okay?**

**I'm going out of town for a couple weeks (boo!) so I won't have a chance to upload anything (boo!). But I'll get the next chapter up once I get back!**

**~lumaluma**


	4. Sweet Talk, Sweet Talk

**Hey! Guess what, I'm uploading this chapter just for all you back-to-schoolers (unless you start in September, in which case, good for you!). Consider it my dedication to you, my beloved readers! Oh, and guess who's a drum major in the marching band this year? Yours truly! I'm a band geek, always have been, and I'm proud of it.**

* * *

Matthew was getting a bit worried. Well, he was sort of pleased at the same time. It was mid-November, and despite his… efforts, to put it politely, to squash anything he felt for Alfred, he couldn't stop himself from acting like a moron whenever the other man was around. Alfred, being pretty oblivious from time to time, didn't really seem to notice too much (a lucky break for Matthew, really).

But Matthew had noticed Alfred glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, when Matthew _wasn't_ yakking and making a fool of himself. Now, he couldn't be entirely sure what those glances meant, but if it was what he was hoping for…

Anyways, Matthew was happy. His coworkers had noticed for once and some had automatically assumed he was getting married or having a baby. That made Matthew laugh, but he didn't want any confusion, so he cleared those rumors up quickly.

Alfred was happy too. He was getting closer to the end of his book, and seemed pretty satisfied with each chapter. Matthew saw him get frustrated a few times, crumpling up sheet after sheet of paper and banging his head against a table, wall, or any available hard surface. But he got over his writer's block fairly quickly, and was back to his usual self.

They'd found quite a bit of common ground, other than the fact that they were both terrible at relationships (though for totally different reasons). Matthew remembered a night a few weeks ago when they had gone to the gym together and spent the rest of the evening just talking. Both of them hated beets, looked terrible in the colour orange, loved animals, had crushes on at least one of their teachers in high school, thought animals that could lick their own eyeballs were weird—okay, that last one was only brought up because they were sort of-not really watching T.V. and some frog on Animal Planet did that…

Matthew was losing his train of thought. What was he supposed to be doing? Ah yes, cleaning the shower. And he was gassing himself with the chemicals. Badly. He stumbled out of the bathroom, coughing quite loudly. Did he get bleach in his hair? Quite possibly. Was he coughing up a lung? No, but those fumes sure made him dizzy.

Matthew threw his rubber gloves in the sink and went to sit on the couch, still coughing. When someone knocked on his door, he just yelled hoarsely, between coughs, "Come in!"

Too bad if it was the postman, he wasn't going to try to stand up.

"Hey, you all right?"

Not the postman after all, it was Alfred. Matthew nodded, but Alfred looked unconvinced. "You sure? You've been coughing really badly for a while."

Matthew cleared his throat. "Almost gassed myself cleaning the bathroom. I'm okay, no blood or anything."

"That's your defining factor for being okay?" Alfred rolled his eyes. "Don't die or anything. Seriously, that would suck."

Matthew stood up, feeling much less dizzy. "I'm fine, really. I'd better go rinse out the shower." He held his breath as he ducked back into the bathroom, and didn't inhale any fumes that time. He put his cleaning supplies away and turned to Alfred. "Okay, I'm done with that."

"Great! So what's up?"

Matthew shrugged. "Not much. You?"

Alfred sighed. "My heater's totally shot and my apartment's freezing. I called the landlord, and he can't get a repair guy in until Monday."

"That bites." Matthew ducked into his bedroom to change and called out, "You can stay here until then if you want."

"Really?"

"Of course. There's a futon in my study, I can throw some blankets on it for you."

"That'd be awesome! You seriously don't mind?"

Matthew stepped out of his bedroom, no longer in his housecleaning clothes. "Why would I?"

Alfred grinned. "Thank you so much, dude! I'm gonna run and grab some of my crap. Be right back!" He waved and ran out the door.

Matthew down sat on his couch. He hadn't had a roommate – a real roommate, not a boyfriend/roommate – since university. Well, it'd certainly be better company than the fish. When Alfred came back with a duffel bag full of stuff, Matthew told him to set up wherever he wanted.

"Just don't monopolize the bathroom counter, please."

"Gotcha. Whoa, it still smells like bleach in there!"

Matthew sighed. "I know, but it's too cold to open the window." He got his laptop and started working on a spreadsheet full of data.

A couple minutes later, Alfred sat down next to him with his own laptop, typing up what he'd written in his notebook. Matthew had a habit of curling his hair, particularly the one stubborn curl that would never quite lay flat on his head no matter what he did, around his finger when thinking about something. He never really thought about it, and no one had ever commented on it. But since Alfred had his own habit of looking up from his computer and staring at something when _he _was thinking, Matthew noticed the other man staring at him playing with his hair.

He suddenly felt very self-conscious and lowered his hand. Alfred blinked, realizing he had been staring. "Sorry, dude. Zoned out for a minute there."

"Okay."

Alfred looked at his computer, frowned, and looked back at Matthew. "Just out of curiosity, why do you play with your hair?"

Matthew shrugged. "I don't know. It helps me focus, I guess. I know it's weird, but-"

"Nah, it's not weird," Alfred interrupted, "Not at all."

Both men went back to working, Matthew occasionally glancing over at Alfred. The man was tapping a pen against his lips, looking at his computer screen. His eyes flicked over to Matthew, and the Canadian quickly snapped his own eyes back to the Excel spreadsheet he was working on. Focus on the data! He had to present this in a meeting on Tuesday, and at the rate he was going, he'd get up there and talk total gibberish.

He looked at the clock in the corner of the screen and sighed. 6:30 already? And he forgot to get anything out of the freezer. Crap. Matthew clicked the 'close' button on the spreadsheet and set his computer aside. He nudged Alfred with his elbow. "Hey, what do you want for dinner?"

"Endearing! That's the word I was looking for. Fucking endearing! Wait, what?"

"Dinner. Do you want to just order a pizza? I didn't defrost anything."

Alfred nodded. "Sure, pizza sounds good."

He typed a few more words and Matthew, curious about what he was writing, leaned over to peek at the screen. Well, that format didn't look like traditional novel formatting. In fact, that looked a lot like a poem or something—

"Hey, no snooping!"

Matthew jumped and blushed. "Sorry! I was just curious."

"You don't need to apologize, jeez."

Now, what would Alfred be so touchy about? Matthew sort of really wanted to ask, but didn't want to pry at the same time. So he settled for staring at Alfred with his eyebrows raised expectantly.

The other man sighed. "Fine, I'll admit it, I write poetry sometimes. Yeah, it's crappy, and yeah, it's wimpy, but I don't really care. Not like I'm trying to get it published or anything. So stop smiling like that and order that damn pizza already!"

Indeed, Matthew had been smirking slightly. "Okay, whatever you say." He grabbed his phone from the coffee table. "What kind of pizza do you want?"

"Anything with bacon's good."

"Hawaiian?"

"Sure."

Matthew dialed the number and held the phone up to his ear. "You know, if it'll make you feel any better, I write songs sometimes. They're pretty sappy, but it's fun anyways."

"Seriously?"

Matthew nodded, but before he could reply, someone at the pizza place answered the phone.

After his phone, Matthew sat back on the couch. "That's done."

"So you actually write music? Like, songs?"

"From time to time, yeah."

"Can you sing?"

Matthew shrugged. "I'm okay at it."

"Coolio!"

The pizza showed up a few minutes later, and they decided to split the bill.

"Hell, I'll probably end up eating more than half of it."

"Don't count on that, I've only eaten a muffin so far today."

"Only a muffin?"

When Alfred raised his eyebrows, Matthew sighed. "And about four cups of coffee."

"There ya go. Still, I don't know how you do it. When I'm home alone, I always eat _way_ too much crap."

Alfred grabbed a slice and was about to sit back on the couch, when Matthew flailed his arms around to stop him. "Wait! Plate! Use a plate."

"Right, tomato sauce stains are a bitch."

Matthew sighed in relief, happy to not be cleaning the couch later. He turned on the TV, mostly for background noise. Alfred glanced at the screen. "There's a Scrubs marathon tonight?"

"Apparently. You watch Scrubs?"

"Yeah, it's one of my favorite shows."

Matthew smiled. "Same here."

"Hey, we oughta stay up and watch it!"

"It ends at two in the morning."

"So what?" Alfred rolled his eyes. "It's Friday."

And that's how they ended up sitting on the couch all evening, laughing at jokes they'd already heard a dozen times and eating half a pizza each. When they got bored of that, they muted the television and made up the dialogue as they went along. It was actually pretty tricky to match up what they said with the characters' mouths, and Matthew was left with a newfound respect for voice actors.

He also found himself thinking that he'd never had such a relaxed, effortless relationship, friendship or otherwise. It was nice. Really nice. And when they finally went to bed – separately, of course – Matthew didn't even feel awkward about sharing the bathroom sink with Alfred when they brushed their teeth. Granted, it wasn't nice when Alfred spat in the sink just as Matthew was rinsing off his toothbrush, covering it in foamy toothpaste, but Matthew just rolled his eyes.

He'd forgotten what it was like to have a roommate he got along with, how he didn't mind the little things other people would find annoying. He thought about that as he drifted off to sleep, comfortably warm in his flannel pajamas that everyone said made him look like a lumberjack, under his flannel bedsheets, glad he had remembered to put them on his bed.

…

His alarm clock woke him up at nine 'o'clock – no point in getting up earlier than that on a Saturday – and Matthew pounded it with his fist until it shut up, cursing at it. "Goddamn-motherfucking-son-of-a-bitch-_bastard!_"

He heard a laugh from another room. "You talkin' to me?"

"No. Alarm clock." Matthew shuffled out of his bedroom, realized he'd forgotten his glasses, swore under his breath, and went to get them. "Fucking stupid moron."

Alfred, who was reading the newspaper at the kitchen table, smirked. "Someone's got a case of the morning Tourette's , I see."

Matthew gave a noncommittal grunt before turning to the kitchen. "Coffee."

"Right here. Do you take it black or-" Matthew grabbed the cup and took a swig before Alfred could finish speaking. The other man raised his eyebrows. "I'll take that as a 'yes' then." Alfred went back to reading the newspaper. "I took a shower, but there's still plenty of hot water left."

The still-groggy Canadian looked up from his mug and noticed Alfred's wet hair. "Hairdryer's under the sink."

"Don't need it."

Matthew nodded, stood up, and walked to the bathroom. "Okay. Then I'll go shower."

"M'kay, take your time. I can amuse myself." Alfred was snickering a little, though Matthew didn't really know why. Sure, he was a mess in the morning, but wasn't everyone?

It wasn't until he was in the shower that he noticed his partial morning wood. Matthew glared at the showerhead, blinking the water out of his eyes. Fuck. Well, that was going to make the rest of the day awkward. He breathed in deeply and sighed. Hey, on the plus side, the shower didn't smell like bleach anymore. It actually smelled really good.

Oh right, Alfred had used it before him. Damn, did his soap ever smell good. Matthew soaped up his hair, already feeling more awake. Once he washed out the shampoo, Matthew glanced down to make sure he wasn't covered in suds.

And his morning wood wasn't backing down. In fact, it had definitely gotten worse. Matthew sighed. He had two options— jerk off really quickly and hope Alfred didn't hear, or ignore it and hope it would go away. He erred on the side of caution (since Matthew knew for a fact he tended to be rather vocal) and chose option two.

So, a few minutes later, Matthew stepped out of the shower, feeling much more awake and quite clean. He wrapped a towel securely around his hips and blow-dried his hair before ducking into his bedroom to change, deciding to forgo yoga that morning. He was really hungry and didn't feel like stretching.

He walked to the kitchen, and spoke to Alfred while opening the fridge. "Did you eat anything yet?"

Alfred looked up from his phone, which he was playing games on. "Huh? Oh, right. No, I didn't."

Matthew nodded. "Okay. There's eggs, yogurt, milk, and fruit in the fridge, cereal and bread in the cupboard, and… that's about it." He grabbed some yogurt and granola for himself, and picked a banana up off the counter.

Alfred pulled a box of cereal out of the cupboard. "You got any plans for today?"

"I don't think so."

"Good. I have to Skype Eliza around noon, and that'll take a few hours for sure, but after that I'm free."

...

As Matthew had learned, 'Skyping Eliza' usually involved the Hungarian woman nagging Alfred to get things done, him replying that he had either finished them or was working on them, and the two discussing whatever Alfred had recently emailed her.

This time wasn't much different, Matthew mused to himself as he worked on his data spreadsheets (Booooooring). Eliza and Alfred had been talking to each other for at least three hours, and the editor was flipping through the latest chapter Alfred had sent her, pointing out things she liked, and things she didn't.

"Now, I love what you did on page four, but this section right here seems a little awkward."

"Eliza, I can't see where you're pointing. We've been over this."

"Oh, shut up. I'm on page six, about halfway down."

Alfred flipped to it and made a face. "Yeah, that part sucks big time. It just didn't flow when I was writing it, you know?"

"Yes, I know. We'll revise it later." Though she said that, Matthew heard the sound of a pen scribbling, as she not-so-subtly annotated the page. She looked back up at the screen. "I think I can fix it pretty easily."

"Okay, thanks. I know pretty much what needs work, though."

"Good. And just out of curiosity, why are you in Matthew's apartment?"

Matthew looked up from his computer when he heard his name and waved. "Hi, Eliza."

Alfred sighed and stretched his arms over his head. "My heater's broken and it's about forty degrees at my place, so Matt's letting me crash here until it's fixed."

"Oh." She looked slightly crestfallen.

The American smirked. "Not what you were hoping for, you sneaky little pervert, am I right?"

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't say anything. And since we're no longer being productive, I will let you go."

"What, you still got that second job?"'

"It's more of a hobby, but yes, I do."

"Good for you!" Alfred winked at her slyly. "Oh, and remember, if you ever need someone to look over your work…"

Eliza smiled. "I'll keep that in mind. Well, I'll talk to you later Alfred. Nice seeing you, Matthew!"

Matthew looked up again and waved, pretending he _totally _wasn't eavesdropping on everything they were saying. "Bye, Eliza."

"See ya later, demon editor lady!"

Eliza grinned devilishly. "You know I prefer Bitch Queen of the Universe, but that nickname is fine too. Let me know when you can talk next."

"Will do. Bye!"

She waved before the video call shut off. Alfred closed up his laptop with a sigh. "There, that's done."

Matthew continued editing his work, trying to remember how he had made it pretty last time. "So, Eliza has two jobs?"

"Sort of. She's mainly an editor, her second job is something she just likes to do."

"And she makes money off it?"

"Yeah, she does. I mean, erotic fiction isn't exactly the world's best money maker or anything, but for a bit of side income, it's pretty good."

Matthew blinked. "She writes-"

"Yep."

"But she-"

"Doesn't seem the type, I know."

"And you offered to look it over for her?"

Alfred shrugged. "I've done it before. She's a pretty decent writer. I mean sure, it's kinda over-romanticized and sometimes a little unrealistic, but it's pretty good."

Matthew sighed. "You have a very fussy, strict editor from Hungary who has several cats and who writes erotic fiction on the side."

"Gay erotic fiction, to be exact, but yep!"

"So _that's_ why you didn't mind reading it," Matthew muttered under his breath before saving his work and closing up his laptop. "I'm done trying to work on that. Too distracted."

"Great!"

Matthew stood up and walked to the kitchen. "I know it's a few hours too late, but help yourself to anything you want for lunch."

"You planning on cooking anything?"

"Maybe some kraft dinner."

Alfred tilted his head. "Mac and cheese?"

"Yep."

"Awesome, I'm learning to understand Canadian!"

Matthew rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Yes, you are." He started heating up some water in a pot and, as an afterthought, switched on the electric kettle beside the stove. Hot cocoa sounded pretty good right then.

Alfred eyed it suspiciously. "I don't like those things. I had a bad experience with one of those in college. It splashed boiling water everywhere whenever I tried to use it."

Matthew shrugged. "I've had this one for years and it's always worked just fine." He pointed to a cupboard. "Can you grab the hot cocoa powder from there?"

"Sure thing. What, no marshmallows?"

"No, but if you put a spoonful of vanilla ice cream and a bit of cinnamon in, it tastes better than marshmallows."

"More cinnamon? Really?"

Matthew smiled. "It's my version of gourmet hot chocolate."

Alfred laughed. "Yeah. Gourmet instant hot chocolate. Pretty sure that's an oxymoron."

"It tastes good to me." The Canadian shrugged and continued cooking, humming quietly under his breath.

Alfred grabbed a couple bowls and forks, edging away from the kettle as he did so. "The hot chocolate is your responsibility. I'm not going anything _near_ that thing. If I do, it'll explode."

"If you say so. Now please move, I need to drain the pasta."

"Moving!"

Lunch— well, lunch/dinner was good. They didn't talk too much, but it felt fine, not a stiff and awkward silence. It was relaxed. Well, as relaxed as it could get.

When they were cleaning up (i.e. loading the dishwasher) and drinking their 'gourmet' hot cocoa, Alfred took a sip and said, "You know, I feel like such a fatass whenever I drink hot chocolate on my own."

"But with someone else it feels comforting, eh?"

"Exactly." He smiled at Matthew, and the other man had the sudden urge to both stick his head into a bucket of cold water and to kiss Alfred. He did neither, instead choosing to stare at his feet and wiggle his toes while leaning against the countertop, both hands clasping his mug of still-warm cocoa.

Bugger it all, he was a mess.

Matthew looked up from his feet to see Alfred staring at them. "What is it?"

"You're wearing fuzzy socks."

"So I am."

"I don't think I own any."

Matthew looked back at his feet. "Well, I have about a dozen pairs. Do you want a couple?"

Alfred shook his head. "Nah, I can go get my own. I'm not _that_ lazy, seriously."

Matthew shrugged. "Okay." He looked back up and saw the fishtank. "Oh crap, the fish!" He ran over and fumbled around, trying to find the fish food. "I forgot to feed them! I'm a horrible person."

"Well, I fed them this morning while you were in the shower."

Matthew glanced over at Alfred, eyebrows raised, and the other man shrugged. "What? I got bored, and they looked hungry."

Matthew sighed in relief. "Good. Now I don't feel quite so bad." He sat down in his armchair and pushed his hair out of his face. "Gah… I was worried for a minute there. Being a responsible adult is no fun. Bills, taxes, pets, work, cooking, laundry, cleaning…"

Alfred nodded. "I know the feeling. And then you have family always prying, like, 'when are you going to settle down' and crap like that."

Matthew sighed. "Especially when your sweet, batty old grandmother keeps forgetting you're gay and tries to set you up with nice young women."

Alfred snorted. "Seriously? Man, that sucks."

"Tell me about it. She's not prejudiced or anything, she's just half-senile. Poor old woman." He shook his head. "I just wish life was a little less stressful sometimes."

Okay, maybe his absolute lack of sex life was contributing to that stress, but he wasn't about to blurt that out to Alfred. Especially not after that morning wood incident. Crap, he just remembered that.

Matthew groaned in frustration and tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling. Alfred walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. "Seriously dude, you need to get outta the house—I mean, the apartment. Staying cooped up for too long's just gonna drive you crazy."

Matthew nodded. "You're probably right. Do you have any ideas?"

Alfred thought for a moment, then his eyes lit up. "Actually, yes."

"Does it involve going outside?" Matthew stood up.

"Unfortunately, yeah. But you're used to the cold, right?"

"Fair enough. Let's finish the cocoa and get out."

…

Matthew ended up driving them in his little Mini Cooper, since he needed to put gas in it anyways. When Alfred smirked and commented on the size of the car, he just rolled his eyes. "It gets good gas mileage and I can park it almost anywhere in the city."

"Yeah, but it's a chick car! Most guys would be embarrassed to be seen in it, let alone own it!"

"Well, I'm not most guys. At least I'm not overcompensating for anything by owning a giant gas guzzler."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Was that little jab directed at me?"

"Take it however you want." Matthew shrugged and kept driving.

Alfred smirked. "Passive-aggressive Canadian."

They drove through a subdivision, Alfred giving directions. He spotted a pedestrian bridge that went over the highway, and pointed at it. "Okay, we're here. Pull over somewhere nearby."

"Okay." Matthew shut off the car and gestured to the glove compartment. "There are a couple hats in here if you want one."

"That's probably a good idea." Alfred took them out and looked at them. "Seriously? A University of Toronto hat, and a Molson Canadian hat. Isn't that a kind of beer?"

Matthew shrugged. "It came with a case of beer I bought. Besides, it's warm."

Alfred just rolled his eyes and put it on. "Whatever. C'mon, let's go."

By that time, the sun was setting, and it was getting quite cold and dark out. They walked up the pedestrian bridge, hands shoved into their pockets for warmth. There weren't that many cars on the highway below, but the traffic was pretty steady.

Matthew lifted his face out of his scarf and smiled at the cool – well, cold, really – breeze that was blowing right at them. Being outside was nice, he decided. Alfred didn't look quite so happy, keeping his nose firmly buried in his coat, cheeks bright pink with cold.

His voice was slightly muffled by the cloth as he spoke. "I come out here sometimes when I'm tired of being cooped up inside. It helps me clear my head a bit."

Matthew nodded. "I can see why. It's nice."

He stared down at the cars flying past in both directions. What were so many people doing on the highway at six 'o'clock on a Saturday night? It wasn't American Thanksgiving weekend yet or anything, that was next week. He shrugged mentally and glanced over at Alfred.

The American seemed to have finally gotten used to the cold and lifted his face out of his scarf. Matthew tried to suppress a smirk when he saw Alfred's nose was bright red. Obviously he failed, because the other man rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, very funny. Alfred the red-nosed human. It happens when I get cold."

Okay, it was pretty cute, so Matthew couldn't smirk for long. Instead he looked back over the highway and sighed. "You know, I remember when I was younger my friends and I used to come to places like this and moon people."

"Same here. Man, I was a _dick_ when I was a teenager!"

Matthew shrugged. "I was usually pretty quiet."

"For some bizarre reason, I'm not surprised."

Matthew glanced over at Alfred, who was grinning at him. He just sighed and rolled his eyes, exaggerating the gesture intentionally.

Alfred nudged him lightly, jokingly. "Yes, yes, Mattie the sainted martyr in heaven. Oh, the crap you put up with. Woe is you! Or is it 'woe are you'? Well, whatever."

Matthew laughed. "That kind of messed up your speech."

"Yeah, I know. Anyways, I'm cold."

"Okay, let's head back." Matthew paused. "I really have to pee."

"Seriously?"

He flushed. "I didn't go before we left and I drank a lot of cocoa and-"

"Whatever. Just piss over the bridge and get it over with."

"But the cars below-!"

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "What, you've never pissed off of a bridge before?"

"Not one with cars below."

"Well, there's a first time for everything. Ah, go for it. It's not like anyone's gonna see or know."

Matthew looked back and forth quickly, making sure no one was around. He quickly unzipped his pants and peed off the bridge, feeling embarrassed, guilty, but also oddly relieved. Until a woman walking her dog walked onto the bridge as well.

"Hey, buddy! Whaddya think you're doin'?"

Matthew turned crimson up to his ears and quickly tucked himself back into his pants. Which decided at that moment to slip down and expose his boxers to the world.

The woman continued yelling at him. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you, dumbass! You men never got any decency, do ya? Want me to call the cops on your sorry ass?"

Alfred was being of no help whatsoever, cracking up behind Matthew. When he finally got his senses back, he grabbed Matthew's hand and dragged him off the bridge, still giggling a bit. "Oh my god, you should've seen your face! Your eyes were like, the size of dinner plates!"

Matthew, who was holding up his pants with his free hand, was not so amused. "That was so embarrassing! You know what, the next time you suggest something, I'm doing the exact opposite. Why did I even listen?"

Alfred just continued dragging him to the car. "You listened 'cuz you're a man. We do dumb things like that."

"Yes, but-"

"So it's totally normal. Besides, I got a pretty good laugh out of it. Someday, you're gonna look back on it and laugh too."

Matthew sighed, finally managed to button his pants back up, and unlocked the car. "I guess. But for that, I get control over the radio."

"Fine with me."

They got into the car, and Matthew made a face.

"What is it, dude?"

"I didn't get to finish peeing." Alfred just started laughing again, so Matthew glared at him and started the car. "Oh, shut up, you."

…

When they got back to Matthew's apartment, the Canadian ran to the bathroom while Alfred sat on the couch. Once he was done, Matthew joined him there, sitting down with a sigh. "Oof. I'm tired."

"Ditto."

"Oh, I forgot to ask, did you sleep well? If you didn't, I can always-"

Alfred waved him off. "I slept fine, don't worry."

"Oh, okay. Good, since I didn't really have a Plan B."

_Unless you want to hop in bed with me—no, bad Matthew. Don't go there._

"Plan B almost always sucks anyways." Alfred yawned. "Right, it's kinda early, but I'm gonna hit the hay."

"That sounds like a good idea."

This time, Alfred didn't spit on Matthew toothbrush. After they changed into their nightclothes, Alfred stuck his head into Matthew's bedroom, wearing a tank top and pajama pants, and asked to borrow a pair of fuzzy socks. The Canadian grabbed a pair for him, and just as he was about to leave, Alfred turned around.

"Hey, you know what you said earlier about doing the opposite of what I told you?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Matthew was a bit confused.

"Well, it's just… did you seriously mean it?"

Matthew shrugged. "I guess it sort of depends on what you say. I'm not pissing off any more bridges, for example."

Alfred nodded, an odd look in his eyes. "Mind if I test it out?"

"Go right ahead." Matthew leaned against the doorway to his room, more than a bit intrigued by his friend's behaviour.

"Kiss me."

Matthew's eyebrows shot up his forehead, but Alfred didn't take back what he said. "Um… sure."

He leaned in, setting one hand on Alfred's waist and gently pressing his lips against Alfred's. The American put his hands on Matthew's shoulders, not pushing him away, not pulling him closer. They broke apart, both blushing and not sure what to do.

"Well… good night."

"Goodnight, Mattie."

Matthew closed his door and sat down on his bed. Now what the _hell_ was that? Impulse, or something else? Was he supposed to make a big deal out of it or act like it didn't happen? Matthew took off his glasses and crawled under the covers. He'd try to figure it out in the morning. Right now, sleep was calling, and he wasn't about to ignore it.

* * *

**So, this monster of a chapter is finally done. Damn, did it ever take a long time! Peace and quiet is very hard to come by on family vacations. Anyways, it's done!**

**And I own a Molson Canadian hat. My dad gave it to me a few years back, and I wear it proudly. And also, we call my mom 'Bitch Queen of the Universe'. She likes that nickname, believe it or not.**

**Oh, and after Ch. 2, a few of you wanted to know who Alfred's crazy ex was. Well… I didn't exactly have anyone in mind (sheepish face). Use your imaginations!**

**Until next time, guys! Thanks for the feedback! I love you all!**


	5. You Drove Me Home

**Hey everyone! I've been on a bit of a writing kick lately, in order to avoid doing assignments, and I've been having just a little too much fun with this chapter. You'll see what I mean ;)**

**Read on, my friends, read on.**

* * *

It had been just a suggestion, a few weeks after Alfred's broken heater was fixed. They were sitting in Matthew's kitchen, eating chicken noodle soup and hoping the grey clouds would finally just dump a few inches of snow on the ground, when Alfred had an epiphany of sorts.

"Hey, the lease on my apartment is up in a couple weeks."

"Mine isn't until the summer."

"Well, I was just thinking, maybe I could move in here."

Matthew looked up from his bowl, suddenly very interested. "You're serious?"

Alfred shrugged. "If you're okay with it, then yeah. Your place is big enough, and it'd save us both some money. Plus it's boring living alone."

Matthew nodded. "Fine with me. As long as you help me move stuff around."

"Of course I will!"

Well, now that the time had come, Matthew was having a hard time finding room for all his stuff.

"Where am I supposed to put my futon?"

"In the living room?"

"Beside the two couches and the armchair? I don't think so. It won't fit. And what about my desk?"

They had decided to convert Matthew's office into Alfred's bedroom, which was proving quite difficult. Several hours later, when the apartment had been sort of suitably arranged, they looked at the living room and started laughing. Two coffee tables, two couches, the futon, an armchair, and an end table were all crammed into the room, surrounded by an assortment of lamps.

"Wow, that looks really crappy."

"Not all of us are interior designers, eh?"

"Definitely not. That lamp has to go."

"Right, let's get back to work."

They moved the furniture around some more, and it ended up looking halfway decent.

"There we go, much better!"

"I guess." Matthew shrugged.

"Well, there's just one thing left to do!"

"What's that?"

Alfred put his hands on his hips and grinned. "X-mas decorations!"

Matthew rolled his eyes and sat down heavily on one of the couches. "Oof. You do it. I'm too tired."

"Aw, where's your X-mas spirit? It's only a couple weeks away!"

"And I've had enough of buying presents and mailing Christmas cards."

"Fine, I'll do it myself. You'd better be ready for an extreme X-mas explosion!"

In the end, there were an awful lot of lights and sparkly garlands, and one small, profusely decorated artificial tree. Matthew had received a few presents from family and friends in the mail, so he shoved them under the tree. He had bought a gift for Alfred as well and put it there as well, making sure the American wasn't around when he did so.

When he asked Alfred if he was going to see family for Christmas, the other man laughed and shook his head. "No way. I love my family, don't get me wrong, but being in a house full of them for more than four hours spells disaster. Someone'll ask me to lend them money, someone will criticize my writing, someone else will be disapproving of my lifestyle, my parents will get in a fight over who turned me gay, some little cousin will bang his head and start crying, blah, blah, blah. I've done it enough times to never do it again. I'll call them and a few other friends, but that's about it."

Matthew frowned. "I need to call my family too, except the long-distance charge is horrible. I might end up Skyping them, so prepare to meet the crazy Williams family. And my mom's side too."

"Hey, they can't be all that bad. You turned out all right."

"So did you, and your family seems pretty dysfunctional."

Alfred shrugged. "True. And I still have to come up with an excuse to not go see my family… do you think it'll snow enough for me to use that?"

"If you're lucky."

…

The weather took a turn for the worse on Christmas Eve, dumping inches upon inches of snow on Boston. Alfred looked out the window and whistled. "Maybe I got a little too lucky. If this keeps up, we won't even be able to get out of the building tomorrow! Check out those drifts."

Matthew peered out the window. "They're already that tall? Wow. Luckily we're all stocked up on food."

"Yeah. Well, I'm gonna hit the hay. Who knows what Santa will bring, right?" He winked at Matthew and went to his bedroom.

Matthew just rolled his eyes, looked back out the window and grimaced. That drift was already at least three feet tall, and the snow wasn't letting up. They rarely got this much snow in Kingston, and certainly not downtown, where the buildings usually prevented this kind of buildup. Either Alfred was extremely lucky, or this snowstorm was a freak of nature. Maybe both.

…

It didn't let up all night, either, Matthew remarked the next morning, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and looking at all of the snow. After showering, shaving, cutting his cheek, cursing, and drying his hair, Matthew changed into his most comfy sweatpants and long-sleeved shirt, throwing on his bathrobe and a pair of fuzzy socks.

He was just pouring coffee and starting on some pancake batter when Alfred skipped into the kitchen with a happy cry of "X-mas!"

"Yes, it is. Now go put some socks on before you get cold."

"Yes, _Mom_. Hey, can you make chocolate chip pancakes?" Matthew nodded and reached into a cupboard, pulling out a bag of chocolate chips, and Alfred grinned. "Yeah! Awesome! Okay, I'm gonna run and change."

Apparently, Alfred had also decided that a bathrobe was the most comfortable attire, and reappeared in the kitchen a few minutes later, talking on his cell phone. "Thanks, Aunt Jo. Is Uncle Danny there too?" He covered the receiver, mouthed 'family' to Matthew, and kept talking. "Great! Tell him I said thanks, and congrats on the baby."

Matthew flipped the pancakes and took a sip of coffee, making a face when it didn't quite taste right. Oh, that would be because it was Alfred's, and he always insisted on ruining it with milk and refined sugar. Bleh. He wrinkled up his nose and pushed the mug along the counter, far away from his own.

He waved at Alfred and pointed at the pancakes, mouthing 'food'. The American's eyes lit up and he nodded. "Okay, grandma. Love you too. I gotta go!" He hung up and tossed his phone onto the coffee table. "Phew, got that over with. Hey, did you see the drift outside the front door? It's at least five feet tall!"

"Have they plowed the street?"

"Nope. Not yet, at least. When're you going to Skype your family?"

"In a few minutes."

He set his computer up on the kitchen table after breakfast, silently hoping his extended family wouldn't be around. The video call opened to his mother shooing a couple small children out of the room and closing the door behind them. Matthew sighed in relief.

She turned around and smiled at Matthew. "Matthew, sweetie! There you are!"

"Hi, Mom."

She tsked. "You still haven't cut your hair. And you're still wearing those glasses. Goodness, are you trying to still look like a university student?"

Matthew rolled his eyes, hearing Alfred snicker from across the room. "Nice to see you haven't changed either."

Matthew's father stuck his head into the room. "Honey, have you seen the—oh, Matt!"

"Hi, Dad."

"Wow, it looks like you decorated the place for once. It's nice."

Matthew rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Actually, my roommate did it all."

His parents looked at each other and then back at him, eyebrows raised. Matthew sighed. "Al, my parents want to meet you. Even though they didn't say it, they do. Trust me."

"What, so they're as passive-aggressive as you? Now I know where you got it from."

"They can hear you."

"Oh, right. Whoops." Alfred walked behind Matthew and waved at the screen. "Hiya, Mr. and Mrs. Williams!"

Matthew's mother squinted, scrutinizing him. "You know, he looks awfully familiar."

"You're right." Matthew's father nodded. "I don't know where from, though."

Matthew sighed and explained that yes, he was living with someone sort of famous. No, not a T.V. actor, an author. The author of the Will Stone series.

"Oh, how fun!" Matthew's mother smiled and waved at Alfred.

Matthew rolled his eyes and tucked his hair behind his ear. "So, how are you?"

"We're great, sweetie. Everyone came up here to visit for once, so we're going to have a lovely dinner!"

"Good to see you've gotten rid of those ugly piercings." His father pointed at the screen. "So unprofessional."

"Yes, Dad, I got rid of them three years ago. You point that out _every _time you see me."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I've been keeping track."

After a few more minutes of listening to his parents' stories, the family gossip, and what was new – and not so new – back home, Matthew was bored. He said goodbye to his parents and hung up with a sigh.

"So… piercings?"

Matthew groaned. "Not you too… fine. I got my ears pierced my freshmen year at U of T."

Alfred shrugged. "That's no big deal."

"I know, but my dad likes to pretend it is." He sighed. "Seriously, sometimes you'd think I got my nipples pierced or something."

Alfred smirked. "I knew a guy who did that. His mom _freaked_. Went batshit crazy on him about it." He glanced over at the tree and clapped his hands once. "Right, presents!"

Truth be told, there wasn't that much to be excited about. Matthew got a blender (courtesy of his mother), a pair of cuff links, a couple books, and a few gift cards to various stores. The only thing he really found interesting was a collection of hand-made guitar picks from a childhood friend.

It was only after Matthew had opened everything under the tree with his name on it that Alfred jumped up. "Oh hey, I just remembered something! I'll be right back." He went to his bedroom and returned with a colourful, albeit poorly wrapped, package. "Sorry, I really suck at wrapping."

"Don't worry about it, I'm just as bad." Matthew passed Alfred his own patchily-wrapped present. "You know, you didn't have to get me anything."

"I could say the exact same thing to you."

"Fair enough." Matthew opened his first, smiling when he pulled it out of the wrapping paper. It was a book on cooking with maple syrup.

Alfred shrugged. "I figured since you put it in your coffee and douse anything possible with it, you'd probably want more ways to use it."

"You were right. Thank you, Al."

The American went a bit pink and cleared his throat. "Yeah, well… um. Yeah." He pulled the paper off his present and tilted his head. "Free chore coupons?"

Matthew nodded. "I figured you're going to want a few days off from pulling your weight around here. I know I do sometimes."

Alfred smirked. "You got that right. Man, I'm gonna use these all up in a month! Whoa, wait. Coupons for not cooking dinner?" He laughed. "You expect me to actually know how to cook? Oh boy."

"Well, that's why I got this." Matthew handed him a book, a copy of his go-to cookbook for just about everything.

"Wow, dude. This thing is thick."

Matthew nodded. "I have a copy of the old edition, but it's falling apart. So this is sort of for both of us. This one has more recipes and they're all really good and the instructions are really easy to understand and I'm babbling again, aren't I?

"Yes you are."

"I'll shut up now, I think." He picked up the wrapping paper and shoved it in the kitchen garbage.

"Hey, while you're over there, can you get some 'gourmet' hot cocoa going?"

"Sure thing. Whipped cream or ice cream on top?"

"Surprise me."

When it was ready, he sat down on the couch next to Alfred and passed him a mug. "Here you go. So we're snowed in, eh?"

"Yep. But I betcha I could jump out a window on the second floor and be just fine!"

"I'd bet so too, but I'm not doing it."

"Aw… fine, we'll stay in."

So they cooked a nice Christmas dinner, with Alfred actually making an effort to help for once. And when they were both stuffed, the dishes were done, and the leftovers were packed away, they decided to see what Christmas specials were on T.V.

Matthew was already quite sleepy, his body going into hibernation mode, and once he started dozing off he grabbed a blanket to stay comfortable. There was a bit of blanket tug-of-war when he and Alfred couldn't share it properly, but once the other man huffed and scooted closer, there was enough for the both of them.

Apparently Matthew wasn't the only one nodding off, since Alfred was curled up in a ball on the couch and snuggled up against his arm. "Merry X-mas, Mattie."

"You too, Al."

"Mm." The American sat up for a moment and kissed Matthew on the cheek before nuzzling against his shoulder.

Matthew froze, no longer quite so sleepy, but Alfred didn't notice (damn him), curled up in a little ball against him with a happy smile on his face, already asleep. Matthew sighed and got comfortable, resigning himself to being Alfred's teddy bear for the night.

…

New year's came and went, the guys going to a club to celebrate. Once they stumbled back to the apartment, giddy and just a bit tipsy, Al ripped a couple pieces of paper out of his notebook.

"Dude, we gotta write some resolutions!"

"Oh, come on, it's three in the morning."

"So? Here. Take the paper."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever. You do know we're bound to break half of them by March, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, but it's the thought that counts. Go on, you start."

Matthew shrugged and started writing. "I guess I'll… try to get more sleep?"

"Works. I'll try to eat better. And finish my book, duh."

"I'll do more of what makes me happy."

Alfred snorted. "Ha. The only way you're gonna do that is if you quit your job."

"If that's what it's going to take, maybe I will."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "You're gonna want to think that through when you're sober, dude."

"Oh, I know. Don't worry." He yawned. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm pretty tired."

"Me too. I'm going to bed. G'night, dude."

"Goodnight."

…

The next weekend it snowed again, and a good few inches had accumulated by Saturday night. After dinner (cooked by Alfred and quite edible), Matthew was staring out the window almost longingly. The snow looked so soft and fluffy…

"Hey Matt, you in there?"

"I'm listening."

"Sure. That's why you've totally been paying attention to me calling you for the past minute."

Oh, so _that's_ what that noise was. Whoops.

"Sorry."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Anyways, I was trying to ask you something."

"Go ahead."

"You ever break into a park after hours?"

The Canadian shook his head. "Not that I can remember."

"Then let's get suited up!"

"Wait, what?"

Alfred put his hands on his hips. "You heard me, suit up. We're breaking into a park. You know, climbing over the fence, screwing around, all that good stuff. Now, I don't trust your little sissy-car on the snow, so we're taking mine."

Matthew sighed and grabbed his winter coat. "Fine, fine. Mock my poor little vehicle."

"Yup. Now c'mon, bro."

They drove to the nearest gated park, one with a brick wall all the way around it… at exactly waist height. Not the most effective wall in the world, really. They hopped over it easily, and Alfred scooped a handful of snow off the top.

"Man, it's been so long since I played in the snow!" He made a snowball and threw it at Matthew, except it disintegrated halfway through its trajectory, sending the target into a fit of laughter.

"Your snowball-making skills show that much!"

"Shut up. I'd like to see you do better, you—oof!"

He was cut off with a snowball to the face, making Matthew laugh even more. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

Alfred glared at him. "Asshole. Teach me!"

So Matthew grinned and showed him the proper way to make a snowball. "Do you think you've got it?"

"Oh, I think so." Matthew missed the devious glint in his friend's eyes.

"Good, since I—gah!" Matthew took a snowball to the head, his hat getting covered in snow. "Hey, you got my glasses!"

"You got mine earlier, so suck it!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

That turned into a bit of a snowball war, both men laughing and dodging each other's snowy projectiles as best as they could. When they got tired, they paused, panting and grinning like a couple of fools, Alfred stuck his hand out. "Truce?"

"Truce."

They shook gloved hands before Alfred smirked evilly and fell over backwards, still holding Matthew's hand and pulling the other man on top of him. "Trust fall!"

They both fell, and Matthew rolled his eyes once they landed with a very ungraceful 'thud'. "You did it backwards."

"Whatever." Alfred stuck his tongue out, then laughed when a snowflake landed on the tip. "Cool!"

"Isn't that good luck?"

"You tell me, Mr. My-country-has-an-eight-month-dead-period."

"Hey, it's only six months if you're in the south."

"Again, whatever. Now either stop squashing my stomach or get off, dude. Can't breathe."

Matthew sighed and rolled off to one side. He then made a snow angel, smiling when Alfred looked at him as if he was crazy.

"Dude, seriously?"

"Don't knock it 'til you try it."

"May as well." Alfred copied him, grinning childishly. "Man, it's been way too long since I've done this!"

"What, made a snow angel?"

"That too." Alfred rolled onto his side, leaning on a gloved hand. "I was kinda just talking about screwing around in the snow with someone else."

Matthew, who had crossed his arms behind his head, glanced over at Alfred. The other man was just smiling at him again, and it gave him a weird, squirmy feeling in his stomach. Damn butterflies. He looked up at the sky instead, clearing his throat a bit awkwardly. "The stars are out tonight."

"Are they? I didn't notice." Alfred rolled onto his back again, mimicking Matthew's position. "I made my own constellation a little while back. You see the cluster there that looks like a five-point star?"

"I think so."

"That's it. Do you have your own constellation?"

"No, I don't."

"Well, give it a shot! Let your eyes unfocus, and the first shape that pops out at you is it.

Matthew let his vision fog over slightly, and almost immediately saw something. "Hey, I got one! A maple leaf."

Alfred squinted up at the sky. "Not seein' it here, bro."

"It's right up there, next to the big dipper."

"What, the circle thing?"

"No, to the right."

"Oh. Oh! I see it now! Hey, it actually does look kinda like a maple leaf. Wouldja look at that!"

Matthew smiled and hid a yawn behind his glove.

Alfred glanced over at him and smirked. "Aw, is wittle Mattie-wattie getting sweepy?"

"And if I am?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Okay, you got me there. I was expecting you to protest. Whatevs, let's go home."

Go home. What a strange thought. Well, Matthew supposed, he _was_ living with Alfred. Just not in _that _sense. _Yet, _said a little voice in the back of his head, _not yet in that sense_.

"Hey, Matt."

"Hmm?"

"You stuck in the snow or you gonna get up?"

"Getting up."

Matthew dozed off on the ride home, since it was so nice and warm in the car. That and he didn't have any caffeine in his system anymore. So he floated in and out of dreamland, waking up slightly whenever the car sped up or slowed down.

It wasn't until they were parked, back at the apartment building, that Alfred nudged Matthew. "Yo, we're back."

"Mm… five more minutes."

"Nope, up now. C'mon, Matt." Alfred undid his seatbelt and leaned over to undo Matthew's. "I can't carry you up the stairs, no matter how awesomely strong you may think I am. Heck, I couldn't even carry you to the elevator."

Well, Matthew wasn't really ready to wake up just yet, so he made a quiet noise of protest and didn't move. He heard Alfred sigh. "Hey, sleeping beauty. Up ya get."

Something pressed against his mouth, so Matthew opened his eyes. Holy shit, Al was kissing him. He must have jumped or something, because the other man pulled back. "Finally. C'mon, Mattie, unless you want me to lock you out!"

Alfred slid out of the car and Matthew followed with a sigh. He was confused, even more so than before. Apart from the occasional cuddles, odd comments, and random acts of affection, Alfred treated him just like a friend. Maybe he was confused too? That would make sense. Matthew just hoped Alfred felt something close to what he felt.

He wouldn't call it love, not yet, but it was getting pretty damn close to it.

…

The snow didn't last long, unfortunately, and Matthew had to trudge through grey, dirty slush on his way to and from the bus stop. He came back to the apartment after being _very_ rudely splashed by some jerk who drove _way_ too close to the curb. Douchebag hoser.

Matthew stated his opinion on that person as he dropped his keys on the counter and took off his winter coat. "Some absolute _asshole_ did this to me. Fucking pickup truck with too fucking big wheels."

Alfred was sitting in an armchair, doing what he called 'dicking around' on his computer, so Matthew didn't feel bad about disturbing him. The other man glanced up from his computer and smirked at Matthew's dirty, slush-spattered pants. "Haha dude, that _sucks!"_

Matthew rolled his eyes. "So sympathetic."

"Hey, it's Schadenfreude, that's all. You told him off for it, right?"

"Well, I would've, only there was a woman with her three small kids right there."

"Aw… censoring your language around kids sucks, am I right?"

"Yep."

"And that's why I'm glad I can't have any."

Matthew opened the fridge. "Is it your turn to cook?"

Alfred made a face. "Yeah, unfortunately. You can see attempts number one and two at dinner in the garbage can if you want. I now know not to leave tomato sauce on high heat and forget about it."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "That's why it smells vaguely of tomatoes in here. So dinner is…?"

"We're having pasta alfredo! It's my favorite anyways."

"Why, because it has your name in it?"

Alfred grinned at him. "Exactly. Plus it tastes awesome. So, it's ready whenever you're hungry. I got something planned for us tonight, if you're not stuck doing boring work crap again."

Matthew poured himself a glass of juice. "Well, I'm trying to find a nice way to call a client an asshat, since he keeps making really bad decisions for his business, but that's about it."

"A _what?"_

"Asshat. It's easier said than done, believe me."

"M'kay, I'll take your word for it." Alfred closed up his computer and leaned back in the armchair he was sitting in. "I'm bored."

"Want me to heat up dinner?"

"Yes please! Hey, good news is I'm almost at the end of the action in my book. Bad guy gets defeated, good guy saves the day, all that. 'course, I'm killing off a character in the next chapter, so that's gonna suck."

"Which character?"

"Adam."

"Will's mentor?"

"Yup. So there'll be a bit of a bittersweet ending, but whatever. Jonah can be there for moral support! And for the fangirls."

Matthew laughed quietly, putting the pasta in the microwave. "The fangirls, eh?"

"Yeah. I get a lot of letters from them, asking about Will and Jonah's relationship. I mean, how am I supposed to reply?"

"Honestly."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Well duh, no shit. You know what I mean. I don't even know what their future is yet!"

"So figure it out." Matthew served the now-warm pasta.

"Now _that's _easier said than done."

After dinner, Alfred disappeared into his bedroom and emerged with a beat-up backpack and a bundle of clothes. He tossed Matthew a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. "Here, put these on."

"But they're all old and stained!"

"That's the point. We're gonna go tag some buildings, and I'm sure you don't want your nice pants getting spray paint on 'em."

Matthew considered that, and obliged, pulling them on over his regular clothes. "You're bonkers, you know that?"

"And proud of it, dude. Being sane is un-American!"

Matthew sighed. "If that's your reasoning, then it sure explains a lot about your people."

They went on foot, deciding that running away would be more effective if they got caught then jumping into a car. Plus that would be a waste of gas. Every sound had Matthew jumping and glancing over his shoulder, sure that it was a policeman following them. After he only saw a drunk guy, later a girl smoking a cigarette and walking her dog, and later still a couple making out on the steps of some building, he stopped being so paranoid.

Alfred was pretty relaxed, so he figured he should be as well. Graffiti was only a minor offense, right?

…right?

Matthew hoped so. Alfred ducked down an alleyway and motioned for Matthew to follow him, dropping the bag on the ground. "Okay, figure out what you're gonna do, man."

He thought for a moment before holding out his hand. "You have white in there?"

"I got all the colors of the rainbow in here." Alfred passed him the can.

Matthew sprayed a large portion of the brick wall in front of him white. He passed back the can and took a black one, starting on the outline of a moose. Hell, if he was going to do something illegal, he may as well throw in some Canadian pride. Next he took a can of red paint and made the 11-point maple leaf on the moose's side.

He put some fangs and blood in the moose's mouth for good measure and stepped back to admire his handiwork. "Rawr. The ferocious Canadian killer moose!"

It was only after Alfred stifled a laugh that he realized he had said that out loud. The other man had, in the meantime, spray-painted some cubist, abstract design in blue, black, and white. It looked a lot cooler than Matthew's, but he wasn't about to admit it. Moose were cool anyways.

They packed the bag up quickly and were about to sneak back out of the alley when a couple police officers appeared.

"Shit," Matthew whispered.

"Relax, we've got this," Alfred replied.

"What do you mean, we've got—mmph!"

Alfred pushed him against the wall and kissed him roughly, burying his hands in Matthew's hair. He couldn't help himself, responding eagerly, his hands travelling down to Alfred's hips and pulling him closer. Before he knew what he was doing, one of his hands was reaching around and squeezing Alfred's ass, and his tongue was in the other man's mouth.

God, that felt good. And Al wasn't pulling away at all, he was actually gripping Matthew tighter and moaning a bit, so either he _really _didn't want to get caught or he liked it. Matthew was really hoping it was the second one.

He was so caught up in the kiss that he didn't notice someone talking to him until a hand tapped him on the shoulder. He broke away from Alfred reluctantly to glare at whoever it was, until he saw it was one of the policemen. Oh. Well, that was just spiffy.

The man just rolled his eyes at him. "As I was saying, take it somewhere else, boys. There're plenty of hotels less than a block away."

Alfred flashed his brilliant smile at the man. "Yessir."

Matthew was just a bit mortified, and a lot hard. He let Alfred just drag him away by the hand, knowing he was blushing. Once they were out of sight and earshot, Alfred grinned at him, using the same smile he had with the policeman. "Toldja we were fine."

Sure, he may have been playing it cool, but Matthew saw Alfred pull his sweatshirt down over his crotch, not quite fast enough to hide the tell-tale bulge in his pants. That was Matthew's 'Aha!' moment. So it _did_ affect him after all… that meant either Matthew was a better kisser than he thought, or that he was right about Alfred being just as confused as him.

Either way, this _really_ wasn't going to help how Matthew felt around Alfred. At this rate, he was going to end up fucking Alfred on the kitchen table, against a wall, on the couch, or even in the shower. No, he had to be patient. Good things come to those who wait. Haha, come!

Matthew blinked, shaking his head as he allowed Alfred to continue dragging him along the sidewalk. Great, now he was acting like a fourteen-year-old boy. Things were going downhill in the self-control department, and going downhill fast. Matthew could only hope Alfred would snap first.

* * *

**Whoo, the tension builds! Anyways, I don't condone any illegal activities, blahblahblah, don't try this at home, blahblahblah, or if you do, don't get caught. Thought I should throw that out there. And the killer Canadian moose? It's a doodle that currently resides in the front of my Calc notebook. Rawr.**

**Shout out to Stitched-Song: I am flattered to be the junior bitch queen of the universe (B.Q.U. for short, and you're all welcome to use it!)**

**Until next time my fellow fans! Expect the next chapter in about a week (aw yeah, I'm actually being productive!) And, as always, thank you all so much for the awesome feedback!**


	6. Bad Romance

**Hey everyone! What's this, a regular update? Yep, I'm being productive. For once. So… I know I've been a total tease these past few chapters, so prepare for some awesomeness ahead.**

**As such, just a quick heads-up, there is mature content of a certain nature (wink wink, nudge nudge) ahead. You've been warned!**

**Read on, and enjoy the show.**

* * *

Alfred had been having trouble focusing on his writing, Matthew had noticed. He didn't know how productive Alfred was when Matthew was at work, but whenever he was home, Alfred seemed to hit a solid… well, block, of writer's block. He couldn't work at the kitchen table or in the living room anymore, holing himself up in his room whenever he needed to get work done.

Matthew thought that he might've been distracting him, so he kept his noise level to a minimum while Alfred worked. He figured it would help, and it seemed to. Alfred stopped hiding in his room to write, instead lounging on the couch or sitting in an armchair with his notebook. Since things were back to normal, Matthew didn't feel bad about sitting next to him on the couch with a book of his own.

He didn't even mind when Alfred stretched out, using his lap as a footrest. "So, how was work?"

Matthew blinked. Alfred didn't usually make conversation while writing, but he decided it wasn't a big deal. "Not bad, actually. I got a day to work on some of my projects, so it was nice and quiet."

"That's good. You know, I'm still stuck on how I'm gonna kill off Adam. I mean, how do you kill a guy so he doesn't suffer too much, but that gives him time to say something important?"

Matthew shrugged. "Is he being killed in combat?"

"Yeah."

"You could always make it due to an explosion or something. That happens in movies, right?"

"True, true. Man, this is _so_ depressing to write!" Alfred tossed his notebook aside with a sigh. "I'm done with that for now. Jeez, you get attached to a character after you write him for four books, you know?"

Matthew smirked. "I wouldn't really know, but I'll take your word for it."

"Trust me, it sucks to kill characters. But I killed his wife off in the last one and he didn't get over it, so… it's kinda necessary. Can't have too much depressing stuff in an action novel, you know? But it's pretty sad still…"

Matthew chuckled. "You make it sound like having him die is a crime."

Alfred shrugged. "I guess, but it sorta feels like it. Man, that got me down today. I need to cheer up a bit." He sighed, wiggling his toes from where his feet were still in Matthew's lap. "Wanna get some Chinese takeout and watch bad movies?"

"It's a date." Matthew immediately regretted his word choice, but Alfred didn't seem to notice.

"Great, I'll call in an order at that place down the road."

When Alfred went to get their food, Matthew jumped up from the couch the moment the door closed. Was his hair all right? Oh, his glasses were filthy. Crapcrapcrap, where was the glasses cleaner? He sat back on the couch just as Alfred came back, finishing giving his glasses a quick spit-cleaning.

"Hi," he said, shoving them back on his face.

"Yo. You want chopsticks?"

"Sure. What do you want to watch?"

"Something funny and stupid with a _totally_ predictable plot."

"Romantic comedies?"

"Exactly."

They ate dinner on the couch, something that Matthew usually abhorred, but decided to let slide this time, and booed whenever there were commercial breaks. "C'mon, another one?"

"They're every seven minutes, I've been counting."

The movie they chose wasn't exactly the most interesting, either. Pretty, perfect blonde chick and quirky brunet guy who vies for her affections. At least the dialogue was original. But after a while, that got boring too, about halfway through the movie.

So Alfred and Matthew shared a blanket, dozing off a bit. Well, until the first kiss scene. Then Alfred sat up and gestured at the television. "Oh come on, that is _so_ obviously fake! Really, did you see her face? She was like 'ew, I can't believe I have to kiss this guy!' Even looking like a total block of wood's better than that."

Matthew chuckled. "She must really not like the actor. Now I feel kind of bad for her."

"Yeah, but they're supposed to fake it well! They're actors! With real people, you can tell right away whether or not a kiss is for real."

_Oh, really?_ Matthew couldn't.

When he didn't reply, Alfred glanced over at him. "I mean when you see people kiss."

"Oh, yep. Definitely."

Well, he just made that wonderfully awkward. Matthew looked up at the ceiling. How fascinating, the lights were off. Yep.

Alfred tapped him on the forehead. "Hey. Mattie."

"Yes?"

"Is the ceiling _really_ that much more interesting than me?"

Matthew could feel himself blushing. "…no, not really."

He looked down and beside him, where Alfred was leaning on his hand, a smirk on his face and one eyebrow raised. That was _really_ not helping him stop blushing. Matthew tried to relax a bit, sighing and slouching on the couch, his hand brushing Alfred's hand under the blanket.

Whoops. Personal space bubble popped. Alfred sat up and tossed the blanket off of them, earning a protest from Matthew.

"Hey, it's cold out-"

"Shut up, Mattie." But there was no annoyance or anger in his voice.

Matthew's mouth just hung open a bit, his eyes refusing to blink as Alfred put his arms around his neck and kissed him, pulling Matthew on top of him as he lay down on the couch. Matthew held himself up as much as he could, not wanting to squish Alfred, but reluctant to be further away from him than necessary.

And then Alfred sucked his tongue into his mouth, and Matthew's arms forgot how to stay steady. One of his hands moved to Alfred's head, the other down to his hip. Alfred laughed and murmured something unintelligible against Matthew's lips, locking his legs around his hips and running his hands through Matthew's hair.

Matthew had no idea how long they stayed like that holding each other and exploring each other's mouths and bodies, but eventually they both pulled back, breathing heavily. With how turned on he was, Matthew felt like a horny teenager again. Probably looked like one too.

He either needed Alfred to take this further, or he _really_ needed to go to the bathroom to take care of this. Or to his bedroom. Hell, even the kitchen would do at this point. But Alfred, still panting a bit, just grinned at him lazily, legs still around Matthew's hips.

"And _that_," he said, "Was a _real_ kiss." He released Matthew and winked at him, leaving the other man incredibly frustrated… sexually as well as emotionally.

_Fuck._ Another night with nothing but his hand and his imagination.

…

Matthew got home from work a bit late on a regular Tuesday afternoon, and went straight to the kitchen to work on dinner (it _was_ his turn, after all). Alfred was at the table, typing on his laptop, occasionally sighing. He was leaning on one hand, tapping one letter at a time.

Once Matthew had dinner on, he turned around and spoke to Alfred. "So, how was your day?"

"It was okay, I guess. Man, I just can't focus. It's driving me nuts!"

Matthew shrugged. "What's bothering you?"

"I keep getting distracted all the time."

"By what?"

"You, Matt. I can't get any work done with you around."

Matthew frowned, a bit hurt. "Well, you're the one who wanted to move in here in the first place, you know, and I've been doing my best to be quiet and let you work, so _excuse me_ if you have a short attention span!"

Alfred frowned as well, pushing his laptop across the table. He stood up, facing Matthew. "That's not what I meant, Matt. I _know _you're being as quiet as you can, and it's my fault for getting off task. It's just…" He sighed and took a step closer. "I can't keep my eyes off you."

"E-excuse me?"

_Hoo boy. Looks like I was right about who'd give in first._

Alfred stepped closer still, enunciating each word very precisely. "I. Can't. Keep. My. Eyes. Off. You."

"I heard you the first time Al, I just…"

Stalling, stalling.

"You just what, Mattie?"

"I… nothing."

"Good, that's what I thought."

And before Matthew could say anything, or even _attempt_ to say anything, Alfred grabbed him by the front of his shirt and kissed him, nipping at his bottom lip. Matthew stood stock-still, not sure what to do with his hands until Alfred grabbed one of them and put it on his hip.

Did he really mean it this time? Matthew wasn't sure until Alfred pulled back to whisper hotly in his ear, "_Fuck me_." He dove right back for Matthew's mouth, fingers unbuttoning the work shirt Matthew was wearing.

"Oh god…" Matthew might've groaned it, whispered it, or yelled it, he wasn't sure.

Alfred _definitely _meant it this time.

Matthew's bedroom was the closest, but by the time they got to the doorway, Matthew's shirt was already on the floor and his belt was being pulled off. Alfred cupped his crotch, squeezing, and Matthew moaned softly.

He slid his hands up Alfred's shirt, feeling the muscle and smooth skin before thumbing his nipples. Alfred wiggled a bit at that and let out a quiet moan of his own. Matthew wanted to hear a lot more sounds like that, so he pulled Alfred's shirt off, almost knocking the other man's glasses off in his haste.

He captured Alfred's lips again, diving right in and circling his tongue around Alfred's. He kept teasing the other man's nipples, pinching and rolling them in his fingers, loving the way Alfred's breath caught in his throat and how he shivered when Matthew touched him_ just right_.

Alfred pulled back and whispered breathlessly, "Bed." He lay down, pulling off his own belt and raised an eyebrow at Matthew. "You gonna just stand there all day?"

Matthew smiled and knelt over him, hovering just inches above him. "Sorry, I was enjoying the view."

"How nice of you. Now cut the sweet talk and fuck me."

Matthew laughed quietly. "Gladly." He unbuttoned his pants, and slid them off, kicking them onto the floor with his socks. He did the same to Alfred, hands ghosting over his crotch, and Alfred's head flopped back onto the pillows.

"Gnnh… tease." He put a hand on the back of Matthew's head and pulled him close. "But two can play at that game." His other hand snuck down and grabbed Matthew through his boxers, causing him to stiffen and groan quietly.

Despite this, he saw Alfred's eyes widen, and when he spoke next, his voice was heavy with desire, even more so than before. "Oh my god, you're _huge_. Mattie, please!"

His hand dipped into the slit in Matthew's boxers, pulling him out and stroking him slowly, agonizingly slowly. Matthew, who was trying just to think straight at that point, remembered where he kept his lube. So he ripped Alfred's boxers off and threw them across the room.

And _fuck,_ he looked good like that. Naked, on his back, his legs spreading for Matthew. The Canadian coated a couple fingers in lube and began stretching him, trying to go slowly and find his sweet spot. It was hard, with Alfred pushing back on his fingers and moaning like that.

When he let out a particularly loud moan, trembling, Matthew smiled.

_Found it._

He started scissoring his fingers, trying to prepare Alfred as much as he could. The American looked up at him, panting, eyes half-lidded. "Mattie… hurry up! I'm – gah – not a virgin, dammit!"

So Matthew nodded, pulling his fingers out and taking off his boxers. He coated his cock with lube for extra precaution, and there he paused, looking Alfred in the eyes. "Should I use a condom?"

Alfred shook his head. "No, it's fine. Go, please, just put it in already!"

Matthew nodded and lined himself up, moaning as he pushed in. Oh, Alfred was _so_ tight, _so_ hot… he definitely wasn't prepared enough. But when he looked at his face, Alfred wasn't tense or shaking in pain. No, he was spreading his legs wider, eyes closed, one hand fisting the bedsheets as he was filled.

He opened his eyes once Matthew was fully inside him, and he reached a hand up to tangle in Matthew's hair. Matthew held onto Alfred's hips, waiting for the go-ahead.

Alfred pushed back against him, as if there was still more to take. "Move. Now. God, please, move!"

Matthew obliged, pulling back and snapping his hips forward, moaning as his cock was surrounded with that tight, hot, slick cavern. Alfred was gasping and moaning every time Matthew moved, even just a little bit, and Matthew had to wonder. Was his sweet spot _really_ that easy to hit?

"Ah! Right there, there! Gnh, Mattie…"

Apparently yes. Matthew dipped his head down to suck on Alfred's neck, pleased when he left a dark reddish-purple mark behind. He thrust faster, deeper, losing control over his rhythm as Alfred moved back against him.

He wrapped a hand around Alfred's cock and kissed him at the same time, tongue sliding into his mouth like he was sliding in and out of him further down. Alfred let out a muffled moan, tightening around Matthew and spraying all over their stomachs, groaning, "Mattie…"

That squeezing, that gorgeous face twisted in pleasure, that warmth against his stomach… Matthew knew he was about to cum. He meant to pull out and just finish against Alfred's stomach, but then the other's legs wrapped around him and kept him there, so Matthew came with a low cry of Alfred's name, filling him with something other than just his cock.

Oh, and it seemed to go on forever, some already threatening to leak out while he was still inside. Matthew collapsed on top of Alfred, panting and thoroughly exhausted. Alfred wrapped his arms around Matthew's neck and kissed him chastely.

"Wow. That," he murmured, "Was probably the best sex I've had in _years_."

Matthew, still too tired to move, just nodded weakly. "I think I'd have to agree with you there."

"Man, you weren't kidding when you said you weren't bad in bed."

"Mmh." Matthew pulled out, only a bit embarrassed to have his cum leaking out of Alfred.

The other man didn't really seem to mind, just snuggling against Matthew. "Mm. Shower?"

"Once I think I can stand."

"M'kay. And you're staying in _my_ bed tonight, okay? Laundry can wait."

"Fine with me."

…

Unfortunately for Matthew, not much changed after that. Alfred went back to being laid-back and casual with him, making Matthew wonder: was Alfred actually serious about this… this… thing? Was he worried that if they actually made it official, that he'd fuck things up? Or was he trying to keep it at a 'just friends' level? The last one wasn't likely, since normal guy friends didn't exactly fuck and then sleep in the same bed, no matter how close they were.

So, Matthew was even more confused, but equally as happy that his dry spell was finally, _finally,_ over, and with someone he really didn't mind waking up next to in the morning. Even if Alfred had woken him up by putting a pillow over his head, it had been worth it not sleeping in the living room.

Besides, Matthew was a cuddler, and Alfred willingly let him snuggle up. That alone meant something, right?

Matthew was reading a book on the couch—well, sort of reading a book, when he was thinking about this, a few days after… whatever the hell that was. Alfred was out doing the grocery shopping, so he had the place to himself—an odd feeling. Matthew decided he may as well take advantage of it and take a power nap, so he tossed his book aside and lay down, closing his eyes.

He woke up some time later and found a sticky note on his forehead. He pulled it off, amused and confused at the same time. It said simply 'food', underlined twice, and Matthew remembered he had to cook dinner.

_Crap._

He sat up and his glasses fell off his face, bouncing under the couch. He sighed, muttering, "Seriously?" before crouching down and sticking his head under the couch to get them. He jumped and yelped when his ass was smacked, and quickly grabbed his glasses and stood up, shoving them on his face.

Alfred was sitting at the kitchen table by then, one eyebrow raised, an innocent 'who, me?' air about him. Matthew walked past him, embarrassed and feeling spiteful. "For _that_, we're having plain lentils."

Alfred wrinkled up his nose and made a small sound of disgust. "What if I apologize?"

"Then I'll make fried rice."

"Okay." He turned in his chair so he was facing Matthew. "I'm sorry, Mattie, for swatting you on the ass."

"Apology accepted." Matthew got to making dinner.

When they were doing the dishes afterwards, Alfred grinned at him. "You know, I'm actually _totally_ not sorry. Admit it, you would've done the same thing to me."

_Actually, I probably wouldn't just have left it at that._

"Don't be silly. I'm more mature than that."

"Yeah, totally. You're as vindictive as it gets!"

Matthew shrugged. "Plenty of vindictive people are mature."

"Not you."

"You'd be surprised."

_But, truth be told, I definitely wouldn't have passed that opportunity up._

Matthew knew his self-control's limitations, and they were almost exceeded at this point. One more thing, he knew it, and he'd give in.

…

That one thing came sooner than he was expecting. Matthew was watching a documentary one evening, trying to keep his mind off anything and everything Alfred-related. The other man was in the shower, and Matthew had started to imagine doing crazy things like going in there and pressing Al up against the wall and-

Photography. Yes, he was watching a documentary about the improvements in photography over the past century. He definitely wasn't fantasizing about his _goddamn sexually frustrating tease of a roommate._

"Hey, whatcha watching?"

Oh, great. Matthew hadn't heard the shower stop or the hair dryer running, but Alfred was standing right behind the couch, wearing his pajamas—an old tank top and a pair of sweatpants.

"It's a documentary."

"Coolio. Mind if I join you?"

_Only if you don't mind me grabbing you and throwing you down and- _

"Not at all."

He was sitting with his legs spread pretty far apart, but didn't think anything of it until Alfred sat down between them with a happy sigh and wiggled around a bit to get comfortable. Ah, friction.

Matthew breathed in deeply through his nose, trying to calm himself, but all he could smell was Alfred's absolutely irresistible soap. That _really_ wasn't helping him clear his head. Nope. Alfred wiggled a bit again, and Matthew bit his lip, words spilling out of his mouth before he really knew what he was saying.

"Are you trying to give me a lap dance or what?"

Alfred laughed, a low, quiet laugh that went straight to Matthew's groin. "What, do you want one?"

"I don't know, are you offering?"

If he hadn't been going out of his mind, Matthew _never _would have said something like that. But, as it was, he had already blurted it out. Would Alfred take it as a joke, or could he hear the desperation in Matthew's voice?

"Wow, Mattie. And here I thought you couldn't be blunt like that." Alfred's movement changed, purposely grinding against Matthew's groin. He glanced over his shoulder, smirking, eyes full of a mixture of desire and mischief.

He got up and turned around, straddling Matthew and putting his hands on the other's shoulders, continuing to grind against him. And oh, Matthew shouldn't have been loving this as much as he was, shouldn't have been as turned on as he was, shouldn't have wanted _so_ badly to rip all their clothes off and fuck Alfred into the nearest relatively stable surface.

But he resisted, just going along with Alfred's slow rutting. His hands fiddled with the hem of Alfred's sweatpants, and he frowned when his hands were slapped away.

"Sorry babe, no touching!"

Matthew growled low in his throat. Now _that_ was just cruel. But then Alfred took his shirt off, and Matthew didn't feel so bad anymore. Alfred picked up his pace as well, no longer just rubbing torturously slowly along Matthew's crotch, but really rutting against him with deep, fast motions.

Alfred was hard now, even though Matthew hadn't done a thing to pleasure him. He stood up and slid his pants off, leaving him in just his boxers. Matthew wanted so badly to reach out and squeeze the tent there, but he didn't.

When he climbed back on Matthew's lap, Alfred looped his arms around Matthew's neck, bringing their faces close together with a breathless laugh. "You like this, Mattie?"

"You have no idea." Matthew couldn't take it anymore. He started grinding back up, groaning softly when Alfred's movements changed again, gently lifting himself up and down.

"Mm… want me to release some of that pressure?" Alfred's lips tickled his ear, his hand brushed so gently against Matthew's groin, and Matthew bucked up against it.

"God, yes."

Alfred's hand popped the button on Matthew's jeans and undid the zipper, and Matthew sighed in relief. He took his own shirt off, dropping it on the floor. Alfred pulled their chests together, and Matthew's hands automatically palmed his waist before he could stop himself.

But now Alfred just moaned softly, leaning into Matthew's touch. Matthew kissed his neck and jaw before_ finally_ connecting their lips, tongues dueling for dominance. Matthew won that when he squeezed Alfred's ass and he moaned, letting Matthew's tongue invade his mouth.

Mm, perfect. Matthew felt like he was in heaven. All he really wanted now was Alfred. He didn't care how he got off as long as it was with him. He had to break the kiss and moan when one of Alfred's hands dipped into his boxers, palming and squeezing him. His head lolled back on his shoulders, and his eyes fluttered shut.

He forced them back open when he heard Alfred let out a groan. His other hand was behind him, out of sight, and Matthew could guess just what he was doing from that beautiful squirming, those soft moans, that blush spreading across his face. Matthew took Alfred's erection in his hand, distracting him from any pain.

They looked into each other's eyes, breathing heavily, and Alfred shivered. "Mattie…"

It was a low, husky, breathy moan, and Matthew groaned. "A-al…"

"Please, I need you inside. I can't wait anymore…"

Matthew lifted Alfred up, pulling off his boxers and shoving his own pants and underpants onto the floor. Alfred's fingers were still inside of himself, stretching and twisting, and Matthew slid a finger in alongside of them after wetting it with saliva.

Alfred moaned louder at that, thrusting back on it, eyes closing and squeezing so tightly around the fingers inside of him. Matthew spat in his hand and spread a mixture of saliva and precum over his erection.

Alfred pulled out his fingers and grasped the base of Matthew's cock, centering himself over it before lowering himself onto it, shaking with a mixture of pain and pleasure. Matthew gripped Alfred's hips, seating himself fully inside of him.

"You all right?"

"More—ah! More than all right." Alfred put his hands back on Matthew's shoulders and kissed him, open-mouthed and sloppy as he started moving, lifting and lowering himself on Matthew's cock.

"Al… you're so…" Matthew never bothered to finish that sentence, preferring to kiss Alfred instead. He was so warm, so tight, so fucking gorgeous like this, so… perfect.

Matthew thrust up when Alfred moved down, setting a fast pace that had both of them moaning.

"Mattie, god… so big…"

"Al, I—ngh, I don't think I'm going to last much… much longer."

Alfred shook his head, gasping. "Ah! Me either. Oh god, harder!"

Matthew did his best to go faster, harder, deeper, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head with the pleasure. He couldn't hold on anymore and thrust up deeply one last time, crying out sharply as he came. He tried to ride out his orgasm, but then Al was coming too, moaning as he shook, convulsing muscles milking Matthew of everything left.

As he came down from his high, kissing Alfred everywhere he could reach, Matthew realized Alfred was whispering something.

"Mattie… oh god, Mattie."

Matthew wrapped his arms around Alfred, pulling their upper bodies together and stroking his back, the warmth of afterglow surrounding them. The couch was going to be a _bitch_ to clean up later, but Matthew didn't care. This was just too nice.

…

Matthew was _sure _at least a few things would change after that. And yes, Alfred was much more blatantly affectionate and clear with his intentions—at least in the bedroom. But it still didn't really feel like they were _together_, per se. There were no "good morning", "welcome home", or "good night" kisses that didn't involve sex (or at least some sexual act) immediately afterwards. And Alfred still treated him just like a friend outside of that.

This went on for several weeks, but whenever Matthew even thought about bringing it up, he stumbled over his words and couldn't find what he meant to say. And since what they had going on – whatever the hell it was – worked, Matthew decided to leave it how it was. He took a "if it isn't broken, don't fix it" approach with most things in his life, and this was no exception. So he didn't bring it up.

He wasn't much of one for casual, no-strings-attached types of relationships, but if that's really what Alfred wanted, he'd be happy just to go along with it. As long as Matthew could be with him. It wasn't exactly the happiest road to follow, but it worked for him.

Besides, Matthew thought to himself, Alfred hadn't had a single relationship in the time they'd become friends. That _had_ to mean something. What it meant, Matthew didn't want to assume, but it gave him a bit of hope. Hope for their future, really.

* * *

**Can you tell I'm a bit rusty when it comes to writing smut? Well, whatever. Let me know what you thought. Oh, and I don't hate romantic comedies, but you gotta admit that most of them are at least a little bit dumb.**

**Now, this chapter is probably going to be the most smut-heavy one, but expect more in the future… along with other, more plot-related things.**

**Anyways, I will probably have the next chapter up soon (say, maybe a week), so you won't be waiting (too) long. Thank you all for reading, and a great big thank-you for all the awesome feedback!**


	7. No Surprises

**Holy long chapter, Batman. Seriously, be prepared for a monster of an update. But hey, a lot happens here, so I don't feel bad. Toldja I was on a writing spree! …a really long one. Bless my soul, I am on a roll! (Hercules reference, anyone?) So, I'm quite productive sometimes. Yay!**

**Thanks, as always, for the amazing feedback everyone! You make me smile every time I read a review. **

**Enjoy the show!**

* * *

Alfred was dozing on the couch when Matthew got home, a book on his chest. Matthew dropped his briefcase by the door with a thud, and Alfred started, waking up with a jump. "Whaa? Oh, Matt. You're home early."

"I know."

Alfred yawned and picked his glasses up off the coffee table. "So did a meeting get out early or something?"

"Nope."

"Huh. So, what's up?"

"I quit."

Alfred sat up. "Wait, what?"

"I quit my job."

"Yeah, I heard that! Why?"

Matthew shrugged, taking off his shoes and tossing them into the closet. "It was boring me, you know, and I was really just tired of it all. It wasn't at all what I want to do with my life, and I was ready for a change." He set his keys on the counter and shrugged off his jacket. "I've been looking around for the past few months, and I've got a plan."

Alfred sighed. "Wow. Okay, let's hear it."

Matthew sat down next to him. "I've been taking online classes for the past couple years, and as of last month, I'm qualified to teach music."

"I thought you could already."

"Guitar, yes, but not general music. I had to get a degree in education for that." He smiled. "I'll be starting a new job at a high school in the fall. I've also got a deal with a music store, and they're offering to advertise me as a guitar teacher. I've already got five potential customers."

Alfred put a hand up to his head. "And you didn't say anything about this? Wow, dude."

"I was planning to keep my job until I got everything completely figured out anyways. And since I've worked out all the kinks…"

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, but… shit man, you coulda told me! Do your parents know yet?"

Matthew shook his head. "Nope. You're the first to know."

"Jeez. At least you let me know first." He sighed, then perked up a bit. "Hey, you're gonna get loads more vacation time, right?"

Matthew tilted his head. "You know, I hadn't thought about that, but now that you mention it… I guess I will! That's a perk I didn't notice."

Alfred sighed. "It's just like you to totally forget the most awesome part. So… high school, huh?"

"Yep. I'll be an assistant band director."

"What, were you a band kid?"

"I was."

"Let me guess, clarinet." Alfred smirked. "Everyone knows that's where the shy, smart, dorky kids go."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "At least it's better than the trombone. Were you?"

"Yeppers. I was a percussionist!"

"Why am I not surprised…" He shook his head.

"What does that mean?" Alfred looked at Matthew expectantly.

"Well," he said, smirking just a bit, "Everyone knows that's where the uncultured, boorish types go."

Alfred gasped and put a hand on his chest. "You wound me gravely, sir. Uncultured? Why, I reject such a notion!"

"Don't even try to deny the other."

"Okay, okay. You got that much right." Alfred nudged him. "Hey, make sure you don't flirt with any of the students. You know the girls are gonna be _all_ over you, Mr. young, hot, and unmarried."

Matthew shrugged. "So I'll wear a rainbow polo shirt and super-tight skinny jeans on my first day. That'd sort things out, eh?"

Alfred laughed. "That'd be a sight. Don't, though, I wanna meet the girls who take guitar lessons with you _just_ to see you outside school."

Matthew sighed. "The sad thing is, that might actually happen."

"It's _gonna_ happen." Alfred grinned. "Man, this is going to be great!"

Matthew smiled, shaking his head. "With you getting this excited, I hope it'll live up to your expectations."

"Oh, it will, if it's anything like _my_ memories of high school. Drama, drama, drama! You're gonna have douchebag jocks, slutty chicks, total nerds, super geniuses, the whole shebang."

"I can't wait." Okay, maybe that was a _little _sarcastic.

"Nah, it'll be fun." Alfred stood, went to the fridge, and got them each a beer. "Celebration time, dude! To the end of a boring-as-hell job."

"Cheers."

They clinked bottles, and Alfred put his feet up on the coffee table. "Man, that brings back memories… so, how much did high school suck for you?"

"Oh, it was all right. I had a crush on my English teacher, though. He taught me _all four years_, and I didn't take any of his classes on purpose. It was _so_ frustrating."

"Hey, I told you I had a crush on my history teacher. He had a really nice ass, especially for a thirty-something-year-old. I mean, he was the baseball coach, but still."

"Were you in baseball?"

"Yeah. And sometimes when it got too hot outside, he'd take off his shirt. Talk about _torture_. But there was this guy in my history class, Trent, who was a first-class asshole. Total dickhead. He was a football player too."

Matthew nodded. "I knew a Trent as well. He was a twat."

"So all guys named Trent are douchebags?"

"Maybe. Did you have anything bad happen to you in high school?"

Alfred shrugged. "Well, apart from having my head shoved in a sink by the seniors in the percussion section on the first day of school and people just causing drama all over the place… nah. Everyone was pretty nice, I guess. What about you?"

"Well… I was pretty depressed the first couple years. I came out in grade nine, and I got bullied at first. Then my friends personally beat the living crap out of one guy, and I gave a few concussions out on the ice, and then they left me alone."

"That kinda sucks."

"Yeah, but it was all right by grade eleven." Matthew took a swig of his beer.

"So," Alfred began, "Did you lose your v-card in high school?"

Matthew coughed, choking a bit. "Excuse me?"

"You know, did you lose it in high school? C'mon, I'm not judging."

Matthew blushed. "I lost it the summer after graduation. It was at a party, and I remember my friends were pretty shocked when I told them. Apparently they thought the other guy was straight. They were even more shocked when they found out we were both sober."

Alfred snickered. "Nice. Real nice. Did you top or bottom?"

Matthew turned scarlet. "Bottomed."

_Why am I telling you this?_

"Ha, ditto."

_Oh, right, because you know what it's like._

Alfred shrugged. "I lost my virginity at summer camp when I was sixteen. Bible camp, no less. Man, if only my parents knew… anyways, it was with one of the counselors. He wanted to be a minister or something." He laughed. "Boy, that made for an awkward morning-after. But hey, we were both stone-cold sober and _he_ invited _me_ to his room. I didn't tell _anyone _until I got home from camp. I think one of my friends said I was definitely going to hell for that."

He shook his head. "Ah, being young and reckless was fun."

"And now we're all grown up and still making impulsive, irrational decisions."

"Bah, those are the best kind. Speaking of which, since you don't have work anymore, we oughta go on vacation. I don't know 'bout you, but I haven't left this town in _way _too long."

Matthew shrugged. "Fine with me. It's not like I really have anything else to do. Where to?"

"How about you give me a little tour of your favorite parts of Canada? Road trip style, of course."

"Road trip style?"

"We plan out where we're gonna go ahead of time, but leave enough time for random stops wherever." Alfred finished his beer, crumpling up the can. "We should probably fly up there, though. It's a really long drive otherwise."

"Sounds good to me."

"Awesome! Lemme get a map. Wait, do I even have a map of Canada?"

"I know I do."

…

So, a couple weeks later, they were on a plane to Buffalo, New York, going over their itinerary. Matthew was looking at a map, trying to figure out the best route to drive. "Once we get our bags and the car, we'll go to Niagara Falls. The Canadian side, of course. It has the better views anyways. I still can't believe you've never been!"

"Well, excuse me for having a life."

"That has nothing to do with seeing some of the world's prettiest waterfalls. Anyways, we'll spend the night in Hamilton. Tomorrow we go to Toronto, and there's a lot to see, so be ready to get up early."

"Boo."

"I know, it sucks. But the hotel has coffee, so we'll be all right. A couple friends of mine have offered to let us crash with them for the night, so we're set for that. Then we head up to Tobermory and spend…" Matthew checked what he had written. "…four days. There's a lot of good hiking up there, and we can camp if you want."

"Like, rent a tent or something?"

"Pretty much. We'd be sort of roughing it, but there are grocery stores we could stock up at. After that, we go to Kingston."

"Isn't that your hometown?"

"Yep. My parents still live there, so if you want to meet them in person, I'll give them a call. Then we drive back to Toronto and spend another day there, then we fly out the next morning."

"Sounds like a busy week-and-a-bit."

"That's the whole point."

Alfred grinned. "Awesome."

The first day was fairly uneventful, with plenty of touristy sight-seeing and pictures by the falls, and a semi-scenic walk. Alfred got recognized by a few people, and a couple teenage boys – and to his surprise, one girl – asked for his autograph.

When they were driving to the hotel, Alfred sighed. "And _that_," he said, "Is why I don't usually go to touristy places. I'm not a total attention whore. Surprising, right?"

"No comment."

"Argh! Stop doing that!"

"Doing what?"

"The passive-aggressive thing."

"I'll stop it when you stop giving me perfect opportunities to do it."

"Fine." Alfred huffed. "And all you Canadians drive little pussy cars, so it's not just you. Seriously though, where are all the pickup trucks?"

Matthew shrugged. "You'd find more out in the agricultural area. Right here, we're in the urban area."

"Good point."

Matthew had reserved a room with two queen beds, unsure of what Alfred was expecting. And not really sure of what he himself was expecting either.

Apparently, the American decided that one of the beds was purely for storage and tossed his suitcase onto it. "Oof. There we go. Hey, did you pack shampoo?"

Matthew raised an eyebrow, but refrained from commenting. "Yes, I did."

"Good, 'cuz I forgot. I brought body wash, soap, and shaving cream though." He picked Matthew's suitcase up and put it on the bed as well. "So, where do you suggest we go for dinner?"

"I was thinking fish and chips. I know a good place I used to go to with my cousins, and it's within walking distance."

"Sounds good to me. I'll shower when we get back."

And he did, rooting through Matthew's bag for the shampoo before the other man had even taken his shoes off. "Nope, nope, nope… yep!" He pulled out a bottle and looked at the label. He then smirked and dropped it back in the bag. "Never mind, not shampoo. Aha! Found it."

After Alfred had disappeared into the bathroom, Matthew pulled out the bottle Alfred had found earlier. He promptly blushed and hit himself in the face with a pillow.

_Of course, he just __had__ to find the lube I packed._

Still, Matthew was curious. He put down the pillow and peeked in Alfred's bag, smiling triumphantly when he found a similar bottle.

_Ha. Knew it._

Alfred came out of the bathroom a few minute later, a towel around his hips and a toothbrush in his mouth. "Hey, can 'ou 'and me the 'ottle of 'otion?"

"Lotion?"

"Ya."

Matthew took a shower of his own, changed into his pajamas, and climbed into bed, feeling a bit awkward and unsure of what to do. Alfred made that decision for them, switching off the light, pulling the covers over them, and turning over on his side. "G'night."

"Good night." Matthew felt mildly disappointed.

_Come on, we're in the same fucking bed and you won't even kiss me good night?_

He rolled his eyes and kissed Alfred on the back of the head before turning over on his side. A couple minutes later, as he was starting to fall asleep, he felt the bed shift slightly and something pressed against the back of his head. He glanced over to the side and smiled when Alfred rolled back over.

_Maybe taking the initiative isn't so bad after all._

…

"Is this seriously real?"

"Of course it is."

"But… but… there are rainbow flags all over the place! It's not even Pride yet!"

"Welcome to Church Street."

"And your friends _live_ here?"

"Yes, they do. Now stop staring."

Alfred rolled his eyes and caught up to Matthew. "Well, it's not every day you see a specialty gay leather shop with mannequins in the windows." He pointed. "Wouldn't that chafe your nipples?"

"I wouldn't know. Would you like to go ask?"

Alfred shook his head vigorously. "Noooo way. I'm not _that_ curious. But you hafta wonder, do you buy leather shorts a couple sizes too big? You know, so they're not too tight when-"

"Alfred, shut up!" Now he was just being embarrassing. Matthew grabbed his hand and sped up his walking, deciding it was high time to get out of sight of the kinky sex shops. Sure, Matthew knew there were quite a few along this stretch, but he _swore_ there weren't this many when he lived in Toronto.

"Hey, it's a legitimate question!"

"And you're a legitimate idiot. Now come on, my friends are expecting us for dinner."

"Your friends picked a weird place to live, unless they own one of those places."

Matthew shook his head. "They don't. Rent was cheap, and this part of town isn't all that sketchy after dark. It works." He stopped at an apartment building, pressing a buzzer.

A moment later, a voice came through the intercom. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's Matthew."

"Oh, yay, Matt! Come right in!"

The door unlocked, and Matthew dragged Alfred in by the hand. "And don't say anything _too_ rude or uncouth, okay?"

"Fine, fine. I'll be on my best behavior."

They took the stairs to the third floor, and Matthew knocked on the door when he reached it. He heard the sound of feet running, the door burst open, and he was promptly attacked by a smiling man, getting his face covered in kisses.

"Mattie! It's been so long! How are you how was your flight where'd you park the car oh you brought a backpack does that mean you have presents who's your friend?"

"Good to see you too, Feli."

He heard a 'humph' from the doorway and waved at the dark-haired man there. "Hi, Lovino."

"Hey. Come on in. Our neighbors are going to think Feli's even gayer than they used to if he keeps this up."

"Hey, I'm just happy! That's allowed, right?"

"Not if you act like a moron."

Alfred's eyebrows were all the way up his forehead and he followed Matthew, muttering, "Dude, your friends are crazy."

"They're just a little… intense. You get used to them after a while." He had brought just enough to last Alfred and himself the night in his backpack, and started answering Feliciano's questions. "We parked out in one of the commuter lots, since we're heading out pretty early tomorrow morning. And yes, I brought presents. This is Alfred, he's my… um."

_Crapcrapcrap._

"Friend." Matthew cringed mentally as soon as he said it.

_Yeah, that's it, 'friend'. I'm such an idiot._

Alfred stuck his hand out. "Alfred F. Jones. Nice to meet ya."

Feliciano took his hand and kissed him on both cheeks. "Any friend of Matthew's is a friend of ours, right Lovino? Oh, he's my brother, by the way."

Lovino waved, standing back a bit. "Yes, unfortunately. Nice to meet you, I guess."

"So, how do you know Matt?"

"We went to U of T together! I studied classical art, Lovino studied history, and we met through the arts department. Oh, let me get dinner served, you must be hungry! Lovi, help them set up the couch."

Lovino sighed and helped Matthew unfold the pullout couch. "Before you ask, I'm only still living with this idiot because his bastard of a boyfriend won't propose and I don't trust him not to burn the fucking building down if he's alone."

"I figured. And what about you and your-"

"Shut up." Lovino blushed. "_That_ bastard and I are_ never_ getting married."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"Whatever."

Alfred was obviously more than a bit confused, so Matthew tried to explain under his breath, "Both of them are in committed relationships, but Lovi _hates_ Feli's boyfriend and will barely admit he loves his own."

"Weirdo Europeans."

Matthew laughed. "You don't know the half of it. I asked to stay with these too because… well… they're some of my more normal friends. If you met a couple of the others…" He shook his head.

Feliciano called from the kitchen, "Dinner is served!"

They ate, Matthew and Feliciano catching up on what was new, and Lovino and Alfred looking awkwardly around the table. Matthew was just a little bit proud of both of them when they started up a side conversation, even if it was just about some of the weird shops in the street below.

They shared the pullout couch that night, and Matthew set an alarm on his phone. "Be ready to get up early again, okay?"

"Aw… how long of a drive is it?"

"If we're lucky with the traffic, about four hours. There's no real fast way, unfortunately."

"Damn Canadians and your lack of big highways all over the place."

Matthew sighed and turned off the lights before climbing onto the couch. "You get used to it."

"Normalization of deviance, if you ask me."

Alfred would surprise him like that sometimes, showing surprising intellect and vocabulary when he least expected it. Well, Matthew supposed, he _was_ a writer, after all.

"Whatever you say. No kicking this time, okay? Even if you're just trying to get the blankets off. You kneed me in the back last night."

"So sue me, I got hot."

_Then sleep naked, simple as that._

Well, maybe that would work at home, but not so much on his friends' couch. "Then just throw off the blankets. I promise I won't complain."

"Okay. Sleepy time?"

"Sleepy time. Good night."

"Sleep tight, dude."

…

Matthew woke up with the alarm and tried to reach for his phone. When something stopped his arm from moving, he frowned, confused. He pushed off the sheets with his free hand and sighed. Of course Alfred was using his arm as his personal teddy bear. Again.

He sat up and inched along the couch, finally able to reach his phone and shut off the alarm just as Lovino yelled from down the hallway to "shut that fucking thing up!"

Matthew shook his arm, trying to dislodge the still-sleeping Alfred. When that didn't work. He flicked him on the nose. _That_ worked, and Alfred woke up with a sneeze. "Achoo! Ow, what was that?"

"Good. You're up. Now leggo my arm."

"Oh. Sorry." Alfred sat up and felt around for his glasses. "There we go. Wait, never mind, these are yours."

"Hm? Oh, thanks." They switched glasses and sat up, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. "Go shower and get dressed, I'll wake up Feli and Lovi to let them know we'll be going soon."

"M'kay. You gonna shower?"

"After you do."

"Right." Alfred shrugged, pulling his clothes out of the backpack and stumbling off to the bathroom.

Matthew stared after him a bit, wondering, had he been proposing that they shower together? No, he couldn't have, he was just half-asleep. Right?

…

An hour later, they were on the highway to the Bruce Peninsula, Alfred dozing off against the window. Apparently two cups of coffee wasn't enough to keep him awake. Matthew was driving, bored and wanting to listen to music, except everything on the radio was crap and his iPod was in a bag… by Alfred's feet. Well, there were no other cars around, so…

He honked the horn and Alfred jumped awake. "Holy shit! What the heck was that?"

"Oh, you're up. Could you grab my iPod?" Okay, so maybe Matthew was a little more devious than he'd like to admit, but it was worth it. Besides, now he had someone to talk to.

And Alfred was feeling chatty. "So what're we gonna do up in… Bomertory?"

"Close, it's Tobermory. And I'll let you decide. There's a lot of good hiking and swimming opportunities up here."

"It's May. Swimming in the Great Lakes in_ May_."

Matthew shrugged. "It's not that bad. You won't get hypothermia or anything."

"I'm not worried about that, I'm more worried about my balls retracting 'cuz of the cold."

Matthew glanced over at Alfred, and laughed when he saw he was actually being serious. "You'll get used to it. If you're prepared for the cold, it's really not that bad."

"I hope I will be."

"Well, if you're not, I have good news. We're staying in a cabin. Hot water, actual beds, indoor plumbing, a refrigerator, all of those civilised things."

"Yay! What, is it your family's or something?"

"A family friend's, but he's pretty much family anyways. We used to come up here every summer for a couple weeks. He doesn't come up until July, usually, so we'll have the place to ourselves."

"Awesome. So, when do we stop for lunch?"

"Whenever you want to."

"Now please."

Matthew glanced at a sign by the side of the road. "Well, it's thirty kilometers to the next town, but…"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "I'll live. C'mon, I'm tougher than _that_."

…

Alfred, however, was not quite tough enough to brave the waters of Lake Huron, and stood knee deep in the water, yelping whenever a wave came anywhere near him. They had set their glasses on the rocky beach with their towels and shoes.

"Ack! No! It's cold!" He hopped up and down, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. "Fucking _freezing!_ How do you do it?"

Matthew was already neck-deep in the water, laughing at Alfred. "I can do it because I'm a _man_. Didn't you say we do stupid things like this?"

Alfred sighed. "Yeah, I did, but… this is taking it to a whole new level!"

Matthew walked out of the deeper water, shaking droplets off the ends of his hair. "Come on, Al. Don't be a wimp."

"Fuck no. Give me one good reason to freeze my nuts off."

Matthew thought for a moment. _Well… I could always play dirty… ah, what the hell._

"You know," he murmured, barely audible over the quiet splashing of the waves, pulling the edge of his swim trunks down just a bit. "I'll make it worth your while."

Alfred's eyebrows went up and he looked at the water and back at Matthew. He swallowed once. "…fine, I'll do it."

Matthew smirked and took his hand. "There we go."

He pulled Alfred into the water, laughing when the other squawked. "Ah! Cold!"

"Yes, cold. It looks like we finally found something where I'm tougher than you, mister manly-man, eh?"

"Shaddup." Alfred splashed him. "Hey, it's actually not so bad once you get used to it."

"That's what I was trying to tell you."

"Whatever. So, can you open your eyes underwater here?"

Matthew shrugged. "Well, yes. There's no salt or chlorine in the water."

"Coolio! I'm gonna see if I can find any fish."

In the end, he didn't find any fish, but he did find some shells. "These things are boring. Have you seen the shells around the Gulf of Mexico? So much more colorful."

"It's probably the temperature that affects that." They were trudging back to the cabin, wrapped up in towels. There was a gust of wind and they both shivered.

"Shit, the wind's even colder than the water!"

"Then let's stop dawdling and get inside! No dripping on the floor, by the way, it's wood."

"Brr. Okay. Hey, are there any other people in the cabins along here?"

They were toweling off in the doorway and Matthew shrugged. "We can find out tonight. People here like to light fires once it gets dark. And you can see _so_ many stars… it's amazing." _And romantic._ Matthew left that last part out, instead hanging his towel up on a hook by the door. "Now I don't know about you, but I could really go for a hot shower, some coffee, and some soup."

"Sounds great to me."

Matthew stepped into the bathroom, stripped, and got the water running, more than a little bit surprised when Alfred got in with him. _Oh, great. Hello awkwardness, my old friend._

"Um?"

"What? It saves water."

Matthew raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything. He grabbed the shampoo and started soaping up his hair. _La-di-da, ignore the other naked man in the shower. Talk about an elephant in the room._

He jumped when Alfred reached past him to get a bar of soap, blushing when he realized just how skittish he was acting. Matthew wasn't sure if he should be turned on or mortified, and had no idea where to look.

Apparently though, Alfred had decided that Matthew could keep his promise of 'making it worth his while' later, and got out shortly afterwards. "I'll get the kettle started, 'kay?"

"Sure, you do that."

_Fucking hell, what am I supposed to do? Right, act cool. None of this weirds me out at all. Nope._

Matthew heated up some soup while Alfred took care of the coffee, looking out at the beach, visible past a small grove of trees that protected the cabin from the wind. "After this, we should go watch the sunset on the beach. That's also typically when people start lighting their fires anyways."

"Sure thing, dude. Do you want me to grab you a sweatshirt when we're done?"

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

Alfred had unpacked their things, deciding – again, without asking Matthew – that they'd be sharing a bed. After dinner, he went into the bedroom and came back carrying one of Matthew's sweaters… and wearing one of them himself.

Matthew tried not to stare. Sure, he bought his sweatshirts a size or two too large, so they hung off his frame (they were more comfy that way anyways), and never really thought about it. But Alfred looked very warm and snug in the excess fabric, not to mention how damn cute he was. Matthew secretly made a wish that Alfred would steal his sweaters more often.

Alfred shoved his hands deep into the pocket at the front. "Ready?"

"Ready."

Apparently there were quite a few other people there, all gathered around a big fire and making s'mores. They welcomed Alfred and Matthew right away, passing them marshmallows and sticks to roast them on. "Join the party, boys. Sorry there's no beer yet, but you've gotta save that for when the kids are in bed, eh?"

"You betcha." Alfred grinned, whispering to Matthew, "I think I like these Canadians."

"Of course you do, they have beer." Matthew rolled his eyes.

Someone pointed at him. "Hey, aren't you that Williams kid?"

Oh boy, he'd been recognized. "Yes, I am."

The man, a rather large, burly type, thumped him on the back. "Jesus Christ, look at you! Haven't seen you up here for ages. Last time I saw you, you were still a pimply faced teenager. Hey guys, this is the Williams boy!"

"No, you're joking! _This_ guy?"

"Well, he sure grew up nice." A woman winked at him, smiling. "Who's your friend?"

Alfred waved at them. "Alfred F. Jones. Yeah, I'm an outsider here. Matt's showing me around Canada a bit."

A woman sitting right by the fire gasped, putting a hand on her chest. "An American, _here?_ Men, hide the children!" She laughed. "No, seriously, hide the children. It's past their bedtime anyways. It's good to be rid of the little buggers after a while."

Matthew tilted his head. "I think I know you… aren't you Lauren Bell's sister?"

"The very same. My name's Susan, by the way. How's she doing, anyways? Haven't heard much from her since she married Pat and started spewing out babies."

Alfred, who had been passed a beer, almost choked on it, laughing. Matthew smirked. "Aunt Laurie's all right. And you?"

The woman smiled. "Still escaping marriage for now. Of course, that's mainly because I'm trying to convince my family that I'm not a lesbian. Once they believe me, Carrie here and I are getting married." She nudged the woman next to her, who smiled and waved at them. Susan continued, "It's so fun to mess with their heads."

Matthew shook his head. "That wouldn't work for me. I was out by the time I was fourteen. My mother _may_ have found me lingering over the men's underwear ads before throwing the newspaper out one Sunday."

The people around the fire just laughed, and one man sighed. "Better than getting caught watching porn, eh?"

"Jim, just because your mother thinks anything with the smallest amount of cleavage is porn doesn't mean all of ours do."

The man shrugged. "She's never let me live it down. Seriously though, an ad for a beach resort hardly counts as porn. Well, unless you're weird like that."

Alfred nudged Matthew. "And now I _really_ like these Canadians."

…

A couple hours later, they bid goodnight to the others and walked back to the cabin, being careful not to trip over rocks. Matthew paused while they were still on the beach and tugged on Alfred's sleeve. "Hey, look up."

"What is it? Oh, wow. Those are _all_ stars?"

"Yep. And it's like this year-round here."

"Damn. You're lucky if you see a tenth of these back home, right?"

"I know."

After staring at the sky for a while, Alfred took Matthew's hand. "C'mon, let's get ready for bed."

When Matthew had finished his nightly routine and changed into his pajamas, he joined Alfred in bed, switching off the lamp on the bedside table. The light from the moon and stars lit up the room quite a bit still, but he didn't feel like getting up to close the curtains. So he started to take off his glasses, ready to go to sleep.

Alfred's hand stopped him, and he blinked at the other man, confused. Alfred moved his hand down to Matthew's cheek, cupping it gently before kissing him. not a usual kiss, either, not full of tongue and teeth, but instead moving his lips against Matthew's, unhurried and sweetly. It felt, Matthew dared admit to himself, almost _loving._

Then Alfred pushed him onto his back and settled in between his legs, making Matthew wonder: what was he up to? Alfred took of his own pajama shirt and pants before helping Matthew out of his own, leaning down to whisper in Matthew's ear, "I want you." He kissed the spot right below Matthew's ear, and leaned over to get something from the bedside table.

Oh, it was lube. Right. When had he put that in there? Matthew stopped thinking and let himself focus on Alfred, who was slicking his fingers up. That wasn't really anything new, but him reaching for Matthew's boxers instead of his own was.

He paused, noticing how Matthew had started a bit. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," Matthew breathed, "It's perfectly fine." He just hadn't been expecting it. Now, though, he was ready when Alfred's finger slipped inside him, eyes closing only momentarily. It had been a long time since anyone but himself had put anything up there, so it felt a bit odd at first.

But then he got used to it, and then Alfred found _that_ spot. _Oh. _Bliss. Matthew had forgotten just how nice that was, and he moaned for how _good_ it felt. A couple more fingers, and Matthew felt that he was ready. "Go ahead," he murmured to Alfred, blushing at how husky his voice was.

Alfred nodded, lifting Matthew's legs onto his shoulders and positioning himself before pushing in, so, so slowly. Matthew groaned in impatience, trying to force Alfred deeper, frowning when the other chuckled softly.

"Patience, Mattie."

"To hell with patience, Al. Just please, get on with it!"

"Mm… if you say so."

Then Alfred was moving, deep and slow, filling him so wonderfully, and Matthew had to gasp to get any breath. That sweet, sweet pressure against his prostate, that occasional, delicious throb inside of him, that feeling of fullness… it was all just too good. And to have Alfred above him, making him feel like this… Matthew couldn't think straight at all.

Still, he noticed Alfred's bangs falling into his eyes, blocking that beautiful face, so he reached up to push the hair out of his face. Alfred's hips jerked for a moment, throwing off his rhythm, and he kissed Matthew's calf, looking him right in the eyes. That made Matthew shiver in the best way possible.

Matthew knew he was being louder than he should have, moaning, gasping, everything, but Alfred wasn't holding back either, so he didn't feel odd about it. In fact, he was already almost there. One more little push…

He groaned, some mixture of 'god' and 'Alfred' and 'yes' all at once, and let go, spilling all over himself. Alfred thrust a few more times before gasping out, "Mattie," and collapsing on top of him. Matthew's eyes fluttered shut, the warmth inside of him making him feel somehow… comforted.

He stroked the back of Alfred's head, kissing him softly on the forehead. He took off his glasses and reached for Alfred's, kissing him in between the eyes. Alfred smiled sleepily and snuggled up to Matthew, connecting their lips one more time in a soft, gentle kiss.

"Good night, Al."

_I love you._

"Good night, Mattie." Alfred's arms tightened around him, and Matthew felt happy.

…

"Can you _please _take the bag now? I've had it for the past two hours!"

"Tough love, babe. I'm taking pictures."

Matthew rolled his eyes and trudged on, hoisting the hiking backpack up on his shoulders. "Remind me again why you can't carry this and take pictures at the same time."

"Your idea to go hiking, Mattie. Besides, how am I supposed to get good shots if I'm carrying a bag?"

"Whatever." He sighed and briefly considered pushing Alfred off the next outcrop of rocks and into the water below. Well, the water was definitely deep enough… nah, not worth it. "You said you wanted to see Georgian Bay."

"Yeah, _see_ it. Not necessarily _hike _along it."

"Lazy American."

"Grumpy Canadian. Now smile!" Alfred turned the camera onto Matthew.

He sighed. "I'm all gross and sweaty and you want me to pose for a picture?"

"You betcha."

"Ugh. Fine. Only for you."

A family of four walked past in the opposite direction, the mother and father glancing at them and then back at each other.

"Newlyweds?"

"Sounds like it. Remember when we used to be like that?"

"Yeah, fifteen years ago." The woman waved at them. "Congratulations!"

Alfred and Matthew waved back, a bit stunned. When the family was out of earshot, Alfred muttered, "Newly… weds?"

"Welcome to Canada," Matthew said, shaking his head. He grinned at Alfred. "Now please take the bag, _honey_."

Alfred turned a bit pink and grabbed the bag, mumbling something about 'stupid' and 'damn Canadians' before walking off.

Matthew stretched, popping his shoulders, and sighed in relief. "Ahh… much better. Hey, wait up!"

"What for? You know the way, not like you're gonna get lost."

"Yes, but…" Matthew caught up to him. "There are snakes and stuff."

"Pssh. Snakes. No biggie."

"Yes, biggie. Some of them are poisonous!"

Alfred scoffed. "C'mon, there are like, five species of poisonous snakes in all of Canada. Try going to Texas. _Everything _there is venomous."

Matthew sighed. "I suppose. Well, anyways, you're carrying our lunch."

"Oh, so _that's _what's so heavy. Man, what'd you put in here, a frickin' casserole dish?

"No… but I did pack fruit and water as well as sandwiches."

They ate lunch at the endpoint of the trail, right beside the water, and started back to the car when they were done. Alfred and Matthew switched off on carrying the bag every few minutes, since it wasn't really a pain to lug around anymore.

When Matthew wasn't carrying it at one point, he was in front, talking about the first time his family had driven up here, and how on the very first day, he had found a—"SNAKE! AH!" Matthew ducked behind Alfred, grasping his arm. "Kill it, kill it, killitkillitkillit!"

"Chill out, man."

There was a snake coiled up in the middle of the path, flicking its tongue out into the air.

"Look, it's not even moving. Just go around it."

"No way. I'm not going _near_ that!" He couldn't move anyways, his legs were locked in place and his feet refused to lift up. Maybe he was just a little bit afraid (ahem, scared shitless) of snakes.

Alfred sighed and held out a hand. "Come on, don't freak out."

"Too late. Already freaking out." Matthew shook his head, then yelped when Alfred picked him up with a grunt.

"Jeez. If it's gonna take this, long I'll just carry you. Look, we're already around it." He smirked. "Though I'll admit I didn't know you were afraid of snakes." He kissed Matthew on the nose and put him down. "And for that little episode, you can carry the bag the rest of the way."

"My hero." Matthew was only being a bit sarcastic, truth be told.

"Yeah, I know I rock. Now come on, you pansy. The day's still young, and you'll have _plenty_ of opportunity to prove you're a man." He winked at Matthew. "If you know what I mean."

Matthew blushed. "I'm pretty sure I do."

"So let's get going. I dunno about you, but I think I'd like a _bit_ more exercise, of the indoor kind this time."

…

Still, when they got back to the cabin, they were both a bit hot and sweaty. Alfred looked from the lake to Matthew, and back at the lake. He grinned, yelled "Skinny dipping!" and started off towards the water.

"Alfred! Goddammit, there are people around!"

"Who gives a fuck? Don't be a prude!"

Matthew shook his head and followed after Alfred with a sigh. _There's no reasoning with him sometimes… but why doesn't that bother me?_

He took off his shirt and yelled after Alfred. "If we get caught, it's all _your_ fault!"

"No shit! Now hurry up and get over here." Alfred was already shirtless, kicking off his shoes and socks before wriggling out of his pants and boxers and tossing his glasses on the pile of clothes.

Matthew followed suit, looking around with pink cheeks to make sure no one was around. When he didn't see anyone, he jumped in the water. Alfred slid in after him, shivering a bit. "Man, it's cold. Worth it, though. Oh, and nice tan lines, by the way."

"Same to you. So, why did you want to skinny-dip in the first place?"

"I'm lazy and didn't feel like going to get swim trunks and towels. Plus it's more fun this way."

Matthew shrugged as best as he could while treading water. "I suppose."

There was always something a bit exhilarating about doing risky or mildly taboo things like this… it brought out his secret adrenaline junkie. Matthew caught Alfred staring at him and suddenly felt a bit self-conscious. "What're you staring at?"

"What, can't a guy admire another good-looking guy without getting chastised?"

Oh. Now that was just a little bit nice to hear. And a little bit flattering. Matthew blushed, sinking a bit to cool off his now-warm cheeks in the cold water. He mumbled a 'thank-you' into the water, feeling even more bashful when Alfred just grinned at him.

He glanced over at the shore, frowning when he saw a family walking their dog. "Well, we're stuck here for a while unless we want to scar those kids for life."

Alfred smirked. "Now, as fun as that might be, I'd feel guilty. But if they come over here, just pretend to be French. They're nudists, right?"

"Only some of them. And you speak French?"

"No. But I can say 'hello', 'where's the bathroom', and 'beer, please', so I'm good."

Matthew snickered, got water up his nose, and promptly sneezed. He glared at Alfred. "Don't laugh at me."

"Sorry, dude!" Alfred kept laughing, so Matthew, feeling particularly vindictive, dunked him, laughing himself when Alfred came back up, blinking water out of his eyes and spitting it out of his mouth. "Hey! Jerk."

"You asked for it!"

"No I didn't. Revenge!"

Alfred pushed him under, and Matthew spat a mouthful of water at him after coming up. "Take that!"

"Gross, you got it up my nose!" They both giggled at that, and Alfred shook his head. "I guess we're both fourteen at heart. Jeez, now I know why most women can't stand men."

Matthew shook his head. "They think things like that are funny too, they just laugh at it in their heads."

"I guess. Okay, my toes are starting to get numb. Is that family of happy campers gone?"

"Yep."

They got out of the water, fetching their glasses and clothes. Neither really felt like getting all their clothes wet, so they settled for just putting on underclothes. Back up at the cabin, Matthew showered and got the hair dryer out, attempting to fix his hair a bit. He had one towel around his waist, one on the floor, and was trying to finish drip-drying.

Alfred came into the bathroom, not even knocking. "Don't mind me, I just gotta piss."

"Good to know."

_Don't watch in the mirror, don't watch in the mirror—crap. Damn you, eyes!_

Matthew tried to focus on combing his hair, furiously going over the same spot over and over. Alfred nudged him out of the way to wash his hands and grabbed Matthew's comb out of his hand when he was done, combing his bangs quickly. "That part right there's gonna stick up no matter what I do, but the rest I can deal with pretty easily." He looked over at Matthew. "You know, your hair looks fine."

"That's what you think."

"Seriously though, it's always really soft. How do you do it?"

"Conditioner. That and I brush it a lot."

"Mm." Alfred stood behind Matthew, putting his hands on Matthew's hips and burying his face into his hair. He breathed deeply. "God, you smell good."

"And you smell like lake water."

"Ouch, way to be blunt. Fine, I can take a hint, I'll shower. Way to kill the mood."

"Sorry, but it's true."

"Yeah, I know. Mind if I use your conditioner?"

"Not at all. Go easy on it, okay? A little bit goes a long way."

"Gotcha."

Matthew decided to get dinner going while Alfred showered, realizing something just as he popped it in the oven.

_We're acting just like all the normal couples I know who live together happily. We've never been on a date. We've never even talked about what we mean to each other. What the heck are we?_

He sighed and sat on the edge of the counter. "Wow… I'm really bad at this."

"What, cooking?"

Matthew jumped. How did Alfred always manage to sneak out of the bathroom so quietly? "No, not cooking. Just…" He shrugged, as usual, unable to find what he meant to say.

_I'm really, __really__ bad at this relationship thing._

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "Okay, whatever. So, what's cooking?"

"Lasagna."

"Awesome. How long until dinner?"

"Maybe half an hour."

Alfred leaned on the counter next to him. "So… what do you want to do until then?"

_Talk. I want to know just what I mean to you. I want you to tell me._

"I dunno."

_Dammit. Did it again._

Alfred shook his head, smiling. "You're not giving me a lot to go on here, Mattie."

"Well, do you have any ideas?"

"Actually, yes." Alfred took a step closer to Matthew and kissed him on the cheek. "I was sort of hoping for a continuation of what almost happened in the bathroom."

Matthew could feel his face get warmer. "And… just what would that entail?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe giving you a chance to redeem you from that wimpy encounter with a snake."

Well, Matthew wasn't about to turn that down. "And you think we can do that in half an hour?"

"If you hurry up and get your ass off the counter, then definitely." Alfred took his hand and practically dragged him to the bedroom, stripping once he got to the bed. "Don't just stand there, dude. This isn't a one-man show."

Matthew took his shirt off, unable to keep his eyes off Alfred for long. "Right. Sorry."

"You've got nothing to apologize for." Alfred kissed him briefly before climbing onto the bed.

Matthew grabbed the lube off the bedside table, eyebrows going up when Alfred rolled onto his stomach, wiggling his hips at Matthew and glancing back over his shoulder. "Hey, don't keep me waiting."

He was already more than half-hard, which surprised Matthew. So when he started preparing Alfred, he whispered in his ear, "Just how much do you want this?"

"You-" Alfred's breath caught in his throat for a second before he continued, "You have no idea, Mattie."

"Oh really? Why?"

"Just… because it's you."

Matthew, who was spreading lube on himself by then, fisted his erection a few times, nibbling on the edge of Alfred's jaw lightly. "If that's the case…"

_Do you love me?_

He positioned himself behind Alfred, covering his body with his own. When Alfred rocked back against him, taking the first few inches on his own, Matthew bit his lip.

_For now, I'll take that as a yes._

He pressed kisses along Alfred's neck and shoulder blades, moving his hips just slightly, thrusting shallowly, enough to drive himself mad. And if it was driving him mad…

Alfred made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, trying to get Matthew to move more. "Mattie, please!"

"Please what?"

"Go faster, dammit!"

Matthew rubbed Alfred's hip, pressing his lips just behind Alfred's ear, laying one of his hands on top of Alfred's and lacing their fingers together. "As you wish."

He moved faster, harder, deeper, listening to every little sound Alfred made so intently that he barely noticed the noises, the words, spilling from his mouth. "Al… god, I—ngh."

"Matt—ah! Don't stop."

"I – oh, Al – I wouldn't dream of it."

He stayed true to that, plowing into him over and over until he felt, heard, and saw Alfred come, covering himself and the bedsheets. Matthew pushed forward one more time, moaning and shaking as he reached his end. Even over the rushing, heavenly pleasure coursing through him, he could hear Alfred's soft cry as he was filled. Matthew pulled out and they lay down side by side, both of their knees too weak to support them.

Instead of reaching right away for tissues or a towel to clean them up, Matthew scooted down on the bed and licked away the white splatters on Alfred's legs, stomach, and groin. Alfred's hand tangled in his hair and pulled him into a kiss once he moved back up, one leg hooking around Matthew's hip and bringing him closer, pressing their upper bodies together as close as possible.

Matthew noticed that they were still holding hands, but he wasn't about to pull his hand away, wasn't going to bother untangling their fingers. Instead he kissed Alfred on the forehead and sat up, pulling him up and reaching for their bathrobes with his free hand. It was only after Alfred took his robe that they finally let go of each other.

Matthew passed Alfred a towel to clean himself up with, smiling at him. Alfred returned his smile shyly and murmured, "Thanks," wiping himself off.

Matthew eyed the love bites he had left on his neck and shoulders, smiling to himself.

_At least this way, people will know he's taken. Even if he doesn't know it, I'm not letting him go anytime soon._

…

It wasn't until they were in bed that night, Alfred snuggled up against Matthew and sleeping soundly, that Matthew started to doubt himself. He was lying awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking.

_At least he actually kissed me good night this time… and I didn't have to ask him to. God, I love him, but I don't have a clue of how he really feels about me. This isn't the kind of relationship I want, but I don't want to end up being used and dumped again. How do you tell someone you've fallen for them without getting hurt if they don't feel the same? You can't, can you? I just… I really don't want to mess things up, but…_

He sighed, kissing Alfred on the top of the head and closing his eyes, ready to try to sleep.

_I'm not sure how much more of this I can take._

* * *

**Ending on an angsty note…again… not my favourite thing. And yes, I've always been a band geek. Flute player, even though I wanted to play clarinet or sax, but my mom told me in fifth grade that my hands were too small :( **

**But hey, we're getting closer to the end of the story, guys, and I want to thank everyone who's been with me this far!**


	8. What I'm Trying To Say

**Hey everyone! Man, it's been a busy week. Stress, stress, stress! I'm glad I had this to work on, it helped me relax like you wouldn't believe. Anyways, read on, and enjoy!**

* * *

The rest of their road-trip vacation went smoothly, with a mildly awkward family lunch at Matthew's parents' house. But they made it through that, getting back to Boston right on schedule with all their luggage.

Alfred collapsed on the couch the minute they got in the door. "Gaah… I am never flying out of Toronto _again._ That was hell."

"I know, but it was the cheapest way back."

"Still, never again. Ugh. What're we doing for dinner?"

"I'm not cooking anything." Matthew checked on the fish, satisfied that the large food-lump thing he had bought had fed them enough over the week. "So unless you actually want to work in the kitchen, I say we warm up some soup or chili or something."

"Soup sounds awesome." Alfred kicked off his shoes and stood up. "I think I'll start unpacking. Want me to get all the laundry going?"

"Sure, that'd be great. Remember-"

"Separate the bright colors, I know. Sheesh. I stopped turning socks pink like, five years ago."

"Just checking." Matthew put soup in the microwave and set his laptop up on the table, checking his email. "Holy…"

Twenty-something emails, and about a dozen from potential students. He sighed, deciding he'd better contact these people over the phone, and schedule to meet them in person. After he made several calls and set everything up, he started working on a potential summer schedule.

Alfred came into the room and peeked at his computer. He laughed. "Back to configuring spreadsheets already?"

"For my new students. I've got seventeen so far. And over the course of five days, with half hour lessons means—well, unless I only want to do four days a week…"

"Save the math for later, Matt. My brain is fried from all the screaming kids and stupid announcements in the airport. Methinks a long, hot shower and some herbal tea is in order. You want some?"

"Sure, why not? Food's heating up already, by the way."

"M'kay, I'm on it." Alfred filled up the electric kettle and flipped the switch, just tapping it and hopping back as if it was a bomb or something. He sat down at the kitchen table and leaned on his hand. "So… I have some news. Good news, but I decided to wait until we got back to tell you."

Matthew closed up his laptop and pushed it off to the side, quite curious. "Okay, I'm listening."

_News? What kind of news?_

Alfred grinned. "I've finally finished my book. _The Great White North_ is finally done! I shipped the last chapter and epilogue off to Eliza for editing the day before we left, and now we're gonna work on the finishing touches together. She's coming here tomorrow."

"You're done with it?"

"Yep."

"Meaning it's going to get published soon?"

"You betcha!"

"Al, that's great!" Matthew really wanted to grab Alfred and kiss him, more a congratulations than anything else, but wasn't sure how it'd go over. So instead he just smiled at him and took one of his hands.

Well, maybe that was just a little more intimate than he meant it to be.

Alfred smiled back, squeezed his hand, then stood to get their tea steeping. "Kettle's boiling. And would you look at that, your kettle doesn't hate me after all! Anyways, I'm writing the dedications and the acknowledgements now, so you're definitely getting a few sentences. You did help me out, after all."

He came back with the mugs and put them on the table, kissing Matthew on top of the head as he passed by. "Herbal tea isn't really much of a celebratory drink, but it's relaxing and that's really more what I need right now."

"True. Do you want me to give you a back rub later?"

"Hell yeah, that'd be awesome. You don't mind?"

"Not at all."

Alfred sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Thank you so much, dude. Oh, and there's something I should mention… Eliza's probably gonna want to stay here. She'll only be a couple days, and she's an okay houseguest, but I thought I'd warn you."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "You honestly think I'll mind?"

"Well, I dunno. She might interfere with our daily schedules."

"Meaning?"

"She'll try to wake me up really early, she'll keep me busy all day, and usually won't let me go to bed until, like, one in the morning."

"Oh." Matthew was usually in bed around midnight, and he needed it to be pretty quiet to fall asleep, so that might be a bit problematic. "Well, I'll live."

"Just making sure. Oh, and she'll barge into rooms without knocking sometimes."

"Oh. Fun."

"Yeah. Lock the bathroom door when you're taking a piss. Trust me."

"I'll take your word for it."

…

Eliza showed up the next day with a small suitcase and dumped her stuff in the doorway after letting herself into the apartment. "Hi guys! Just to let you know, I'm in a terrible mood."

"Hey, you're early."

"I know, the flight was actually on time. Doesn't change the fact that I hate airplanes."

Luckily, Matthew and Alfred weren't in a compromising position when she showed up, and were just eating lunch at the kitchen table. Matthew stood up to take her things. "Sorry to hear that. Would you like me to get you something to drink?"

Eliza looked surprised and pleased. "What a gentleman! Hey Al, why don't _you_ ever act this nice to me?"

"Because I know not to baby you, that's why. Matt, just leave her stuff. She's a big girl, she can take care of herself."

Eliza whapped him on the back of the head. "Shut up, you! I still haven't forgiven you for disappearing on me for over a week!"

"I made sure to text you, what're you whining about?"

She sat down and glared at Alfred. "Sending me 'hey, I'm in Canada, won't be home for eight days' does not count."

Matthew shrugged and picked up the suitcase. "So… where should I put this?"

Alfred waved him off. "Just take it to one of the bedrooms. She's not gonna want to crash on the couch."

"You got _that_ right."

Matthew put the bag in Alfred's bedroom and returned to find them squabbling.

"Well, I'm sorry for having stuff to do!"

"Oh, so 'stuff' means running off for a week? A couple days' notice would've been nice!"

"Whatever. You're not my mom or anything, you know."

"Thank god for that."

"Bitch."

"Asshole."

Matthew hid in the doorway to Alfred's bedroom, trying to stay invisible. Then they just laughed and Eliza shook her head. "You're lucky you're a best-selling author or I'd have pushed you out the window long ago."

"And you're lucky you're a great editor, or your head would be shoved in the toilet by now."

Matthew sighed in relief. "So, you're not going to kill each other after all?"

"Nope. We fight like this all the time."

"It's actually part of the reason we live pretty far away from each other. We used to meet up weekly, and my neighbors thought the shouting was domestic violence."

Alfred laughed. "Boy, _that_ was fun to explain to the police. Remember?"

"Yes I do." Eliza put on a wide-eyed, innocent face. "No officer, everything's fine. No, I'm just his editor, we're not in a relationship. Yes, I'm sure. Officer, he's gay." She shook her head. "I think it happened… seven times?"

"Yep. Ah, the good old days."

Matthew raised his eyebrows. "Well, that's… interesting. Eliza, what do you want to drink?"

"Got any fancy, girly drinks?"

"Nope." Alfred crossed his arms behind his head. "We're manly men."

"Well, we've got smoothies… they taste good with coconut rum in them, too."

"Smoothies?" Eliza raised an eyebrow at Alfred.

"Dammit, Matt! I thought you hid those."

"Sorry, I forgot."

Alfred put his hands up defensively at Eliza. "They're only for after workouts, I swear."

"Oh, I'm sure. I'll take one, Matthew."

Matthew passed it to her and left the room. "I'd better go check on my music inventory. I've got a bunch of novice students, so I'd better make sure I have enough books for them all."

As soon as he left the room, he heard them start a conversation behind him.

"The smoothies were _his_ idea, I swear."

"Oh yes, certainly. So, you leave Manhattan and discover your inner gym bunny? I thought you were 'above that kind of thing'."

"Shaddup. It's only 'cuz I actually have a workout buddy for once."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?"

Matthew stuck his head out of his bedroom. "_Excuse _me?"

She just smiled and waved at him. "Nothing! Go to your music books. Alfred, get out the red pens."

"Aw, can't we use purple this time?"

"No. So quit whining."

Matthew shook his head and left, going back to his room. When he next emerged, there were papers all over the kitchen table, covered in red scribbles, and Alfred was slouched in his chair, looking exhausted while Eliza scratched away with her pen. "C'mon, we've done six chapters. Isn't that enough for one afternoon?"

"I'm halfway done with the seventh already. Get your computer out, start re-typing."

"But that's so _boring!_" Alfred sighed and hit his head against the table. "Boring, boring, boring."

"Shut up and work, you. Go get a soda if it'll keep you awake."

"Not… enough… energy. Can't… move…"

Matthew got a coke from the fridge and put it on the table next to Alfred.

The American immediately sat up and grabbed it. "Mattie, dude, you're a lifesaver."

He rolled his eyes and rooted around in the fridge, turning to Eliza after a moment. "Is it okay if we just have grilled cheese sandwiches or something like that for dinner? I really need to go grocery shopping soon."

"Sure, sure. Just don't burn them." She didn't even look up from the papers, and Matthew shrugged.

"Okay, sandwiches it is."

As soon as they were done eating, Eliza was back to drowning the paper in a sea of red ink. Alfred tapped her on the back of the head after a while. "Yo, nine chapters is enough for one day. We have three more days and only fifteen more chapters."

"But-"

"Hit the hay early for once, 'kay?"

She sighed. "You have a point. Can I use your shower?"

"Yeah, of course. Just don't leave any hair in there, Matt gets really fussy about that."

"It's gross!" Matthew was sitting on the couch with a book, but could still hear them talking. "Not liking hairballs in the shower or in the sink is normal."

Alfred shrugged. "Good thing you aren't straight. Most girls have long hair."

"No, really? I hadn't noticed."

"Sheesh. Someone else really needs to go to bed. Why is everyone in this apartment but me grumpy?"

Eliza rolled her eyes. "Whatever, you two. I'll keep the shower clean. And congratulations on sounding like my parents after twenty-five years of marriage." She waved over her shoulder and disappeared into the bathroom, apparently oblivious to the two men glaring at her.

"Oh, she is _so_ getting locked in the bathroom later."

"Later?"

"When I can remember where the key is." Alfred yawned. "But right now I'm tired. Hey, are we in your room or mine?"

"Mine."

"Okay, just checking. Oh, and a heads-up, if you're doing yoga tomorrow, make sure the door is closed."

Matthew remembered the first time Alfred had walked in on him when he was doing yoga one morning. He just blinked, said "So _that's _why you're so flexible," and closed the door. That was after they had first slept together, so it wasn't horribly embarrassing, but Alfred remembered to knock more often afterwards.

They went to bed early – well, early for them – and Alfred locked the door after saying good night to Eliza. "She'll try to get in here at five in the morning if I don't lock it."

He crawled into bed, just taking off his shirt and pants. Matthew, who was in the process of putting on his pajamas, was a bit surprised. "You're sleeping like that?"

"Yeah."

"Just in your boxers?"

"Well, it's getting too hot to wear clothes to bed."

So Matthew shrugged, left his pajama shirt on the floor, and climbed into bed. _There's still three layers of fabric between us. He's got his boxers, I've got my pants and boxers. It's fine. It's not like either of us is naked._

As soon as he had taken off his glasses and switched off the light, though, Alfred pressed himself right up against Matthew and kissed him on the nose. "G'night, babe."

"Good night."

_Maybe it'd be just a little less frustrating if we were naked._

Alfred rolled over, but still snuggled against Matthew, and he almost laughed. _What, so I'm the big spoon tonight? How cute. How sweet. How… infuriating._

Matthew sighed, wrapping his arms around Alfred's torso. Just how was he supposed to hide how aroused being pressed up against Alfred like this made him? He kissed the back of Alfred's neck, letting his lips linger there as he closed his eyes. _Once I'm asleep, I can't be blamed for my actions. Time to sleep._

…

He wasn't sure exactly when it happened, didn't bother to glance at the alarm clock, but Matthew woke up to something tapping his arm. Correction, someone. "Hey, Mattie. _Mattie_. You awake?"

He sighed, blinking a few times. "I am now. What's wrong?" Alfred probably just had to get up to pee. It happened often enough to both of them.

"Well, nothing's wrong, really, but you're kind of… well, you've been pretty much dry-humping me for the past twenty minutes."

Oh. So he had been sort of acting out what he was dreaming about.

"Sorry." Matthew moved his hips back, mildly embarrassed. "I was…"

Alfred made a strange sound, somewhere between a whine and a groan, and pulled Matthew's hand to the front of his boxers. What was he…?

Matthew's hand automatically gripped Alfred through the slit in his underwear. _Oh. That's why he woke me up._

Alfred actually did let out a little whine at that, thrusting forward into Matthew's hand. Matthew pulled Alfred back against him, rolling his hips slightly and smiling at the shudder that went through Alfred's body. But still, he wanted to see Alfred's face, so he removed his hand and rolled onto his back.

Alfred climbed on top of him, throwing off the bedsheets and kissing him soundly. Matthew sighed happily against Alfred's lips, stroking the dip in his spine with one hand and gently running his fingers over the other man's nipple with the other. Alfred pulled back, fumbling around in the darkness.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting my glasses. I don't know about you, but I like being able to see properly."

Matthew put his own glasses on with a sigh. "You're a bit strange sometimes, you know that?"

_That's just one of the things I love about you._

Alfred rolled his eyes and kissed Matthew on the forehead. "You'd better get used to it, babe."

There it was again. That little nickname Alfred sometimes used with him. He didn't use to, did he?

Matthew was snapped out of his thoughts when Alfred kissed his chest and worked his way down, pulling down Matthew's pants and underwear once he reached them, pressing a line of kisses down the trail of hair leading under the waistband of his pants.

He bit his lip when Alfred took him into his mouth, wanting to press his head down or thrust up _so_ badly, but he didn't. Instead, he let Alfred find his own pace, and it was one that had Matthew clenching his fists and curling his toes with pleasure. _God,_ Al knew how to use his mouth… his tongue would tease Matthew, swirl around, run over his length just right, he used just the right amount of suction and—oh god, he just scraped his teeth against the shaft, didn't he?

Matthew's eyes squeezed shut with pleasure, until he picked up on a couple quiet sounds from Alfred, the vibrations from them against him driving him ever closer to the edge. He forced his eyes open and saw Alfred on his knees, fisting himself, already swollen and dripping, his face flushed and eyes trained on Matthew's face. The intensity of his gaze, what Matthew saw in his eyes, the lust, the need, all of it pushing him closer to the bliss he was desperate for.

Then Alfred was cumming, and it was too much. Matthew arched his back, biting back a moan as he felt himself spilling into Alfred's mouth, the pleasure overwhelming him.

The next thing he noticed was Alfred climbing back on top of him and kissing him. Matthew could taste himself in Alfred's mouth, but it didn't bother him. No, it didn't bother him one bit. He pulled Alfred against him and put the sheet back over them, feeling the need to be as close to him as possible. Maybe Alfred felt it too, because he just wiggled around a bit, taking off their glasses and making himself more comfortable. He closed his eyes and kissed Matthew on the cheek one last time, murmuring something that Matthew couldn't quite make out, and they both drifted off.

…

Matthew woke up briefly when Alfred climbed out of bed, but when Alfred kissed his forehead and whispered, "Go back to sleep, Mattie," he did just that.

When he woke up definitively, he could hear Alfred and Eliza talking somewhere else in the apartment. He rolled out of bed, wincing when his back popped painfully. Ooh… he definitely needed to stretch. Falling asleep with a 180-pound plus guy on your chest wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing in the world.

So he just stripped off his pants and pulled his yoga mat out from under the bed. About halfway through his stretching routine, someone knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for him to answer. "Good morning Matthew! …and Matthew's ass."

Eliza stood in the doorway, giggling, until Alfred sighed and dragged her away. "Don't stare, it's rude. Sorry Matt!"

Matthew's cheeks were burning. Well, his _face_ was bright pink, he wasn't sure about his other cheeks. That was mortifying. Matthew grabbed some clothes and wrapped a towel around his waist before going to shower. _At least I wasn't facing the door this time_. He shuddered in embarrassment, putting the water on cold to cool off his still-flushed face.

…

They were done working on Alfred's book the next day, and the American decided to go out for a run. "After two days of not leaving the place, I'm going nuts. At least Matt got to go out."

"I went grocery shopping, Al. Not exactly the most exciting thing I could be doing."

"You bought beer! That's fun, right?"

Eliza closed the door in his face. "Go for your run, mister I-can't-stay-focused-for-twenty-minutes."

Matthew shook his head. "He _can _pay attention for longer than that, you know."

"Not with me, he can't. Apparently, I'm boring."

"And I'm not?"

"Not to Alfred, for some reason." She sat down across from Matthew at the kitchen table, a mug of tea in her hands. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning, so I'm glad he's gone out for a bit."

"Why?"

"I wanted to have a talk with you, just one-on-one."

"Oh." Matthew spun his glass of juice around in his hands. "About what?"

"I'm sure you can guess, Matthew."

He shrugged and stared into his glass. Boy, those bubbles were interesting.

"Oh, come on." Eliza pulled the glass away from him. "I can see how you look at him."

"And?"

"Well… I've known Alfred for quite a long time now. We've been working together since his first book."

"Yes, I know. Let me guess, you want to make sure he's not going to get hurt."

"No." Eliza shook her head. When Matthew looked at her, a bit surprised, she continued, "I want to make sure _you_ don't get hurt. Alfred's pretty outgoing, but he's not one to talk about his feelings. You can blame his macho-man upbringing for that one."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he's not going to be the one to start the conversation you want to have, unless something really sets him off."

Matthew sighed. "I'm not exactly a very assertive person, you know."

"I can tell. But if you want to keep him, you'd better be ready to do some serious talking. He's not good at serious relationships, mostly because he's never told anyone he loves them. At least, no one he really meant it to."

"So… you think he wouldn't mean it with me?"

"On the contrary, I think you're more important to him than you think. Do you know just how many Skype calls have turned into 'let's talk about Matthew' sessions instead of work sessions? It was driving me nuts."

Matthew blushed and lay his head on the table, resting it on his arms and smiling to himself. "Is that so?"

"Yes. Trust me, as long as you guys talk it out, you'll be fine. But if you don't…" Eliza shook her head. "He's bound to get discouraged. Alfred's actually pretty jealous and self-conscious, believe it or not."

"Well, he has a reason." Eliza tilted her head, so Matthew continued, "He's had a lot of guys use him or cheat on him, right?"

"He told you about that?"

"What, you didn't know? It's how we met in the first place. I was his drinking buddy for the night."

"I had no idea. Well, that certainly makes things easier. Just keep that in mind, okay? Don't give him any reason to get into one of his low self-confidence moods." Eliza sighed. "Those are really hard to get him out of, I'm sure you know."

"Actually, no. He's never done that with me."

"Really? It happened with a lot of the others…" She smiled. "That's a good sign. You must make him feel really good."

Matthew smirked, glancing off to the side, and Eliza smacked his arm. "I didn't mean it like that, you pervert! Ugh, men."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it!"

"Maybe I was, maybe it's just your overactive imagination, Ms. Erotic-fiction writer."

She gasped. "He told you? Oh, no he didn't. Alfred, you're a dead man when you get back!"

The door opened just then, and Alfred sighed. "What'd I do now? I didn't leave any socks on the floor, I made sure!"

"No, you idiot, you told Matthew about my second job!"

Alfred shrugged. "Well, yeah, he asked and I wasn't gonna lie."

"You're hopeless."

"_Me?_ At least I don't write down my little fantasies."

"No, _you_ write poems about-"

Alfred put a hand over her mouth and hissed something in her ear, and Eliza cracked up behind his hand. Matthew rolled his eyes. "Why you two work together is beyond me."

They both grinned and put their arms around each other's shoulders. "Because we love each other! Deep down, that is. _Really_ deep."

"Yep, we sure do. Plus, she makes me get stuff done."

"Someone has to, you know."

Matthew sighed. "Whatever you say. Well, I'm going out for a walk. Eliza, I'll think about what you said." He slipped on his sneakers and headed out into the city, shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pocket with a sigh.

_Maybe she's right. Hell, she's probably right. But how am I supposed to go about this? Just grab him and say 'hey guess what, I'm in love with you,'? _He winced. _Nope. That won't work. What __am__ I going to do?_

…

"But I have to meet with people tomorrow morning!"

"So?"

"I can't have glitter on my face, and I definitely can't smell like booze or cologne! Besides, I don't think these… pants, if you can call them that, are gonna be easy to get out of."

"Hey, I can help you with _that_ much." Alfred winked at Matthew. "This is how you're supposed to look at nightclubs."

"We've definitely been going to different nightclubs, then. I didn't even think they _made_ pants this tight!"

"I was quite the twink in my day, and these still fit, so I wasn't about to throw them out."

"You, a twink?" Matthew could sort of imagine it. "That explains how you actually know how to use eyeliner. I tried twice during my 'angsty-teenager' phase and haven't tried since."

"Hence, it's high time you use some of the oldest tricks in the book to get into places for free. I mean, you've got gorgeous eyes to start with, and your legs practically scream 'short-shorts', so you've got a pretty good head-start. I still don't know why you won't wear shorts, though."

Matthew sighed, trying to put his keys in the ridiculously tight pants. Trying being the key word. "Because it's demeaning to go out in public like that."

"Oh, only in public? Maybe I'll get you to wear 'em around the house." Alfred was more successful in getting his keys into his pocket, and he winked at Matthew. "Looks like we're taking the gay car."

"Says the man who dressed us in skin-tight clothes, put makeup and glitter on me, and suggested I wear short-shorts."

"Touché. Whatever, I'll drive. You don't know where we're going anyways, do you?"

"Nope. Am I in danger of getting molested where we're going?"

"Meh, probably. Just give 'em your best scary Canadian face if someone gets too handsy."

"Scary Canadian face?"

"Like you did at the alarm clock this morning."'

"Oh."

It turned out that they were going to a club downtown, one that Matthew had always been too afraid to even go near. He could hear the bass from all the way down the street, and raised an eyebrow in recognition. "No way."

"Yes way."

"_This _place?"

"Yep."

"Oh boy. Don't let me drink too much."

"Don't worry."

Usually the people outside glared at Matthew, since he dressed like a normal person. Now, with the semi-sheer tank top, ripped jeans, and leather boots, he could tell people were checking him out. It was equally disturbing and flattering. Alfred seemed to fit right in somehow, taking Matthew's hand and sidling up to the bouncer, who looked them up and down, smiled appreciatively, and let them in.

Well, if Matthew's cheeks weren't already bright pink, that sure did it. The music was even louder inside the dimly lit club, the dance floor crowded with bodies, people making out at the tables in the corners, and the only relatively safe-looking place was the bar. Matthew made his was over there, apologizing as he bumped into couples dancing or standing around talking. Once he was there, he ordered something that sounded normal but ended up being swirled bright violet and turquoise.

Whatever, it was pretty good. Ooh, and strong. Wow. Two more and he'd be completely plastered. Just one drink was enough to get him mildly buzzed, and that was enough. When he was done with it, Alfred, who had vanished to god-knows-where for a few minutes, reappeared.

"Ready to dance?"

_If by 'dance' you mean join the giant dry-humping party in the middle of the dance floor, than probably not._

"Sure."

They stayed close enough to the outside so they could actually breathe, but apparently not far out enough. After a few songs and getting his ass grabbed by four—no, by _five_ different men and women, Matthew felt thoroughly violated. Well, there was always one way to protect himself… ah, what the hell.

Matthew turned around pressing his back against Alfred, blushing at the quiet laughter in his ear. "What happened to the scary Canadian?"

"He lost all courage after that big scary guy winked at him and made obscene hand gestures."

"Ah, I see." Alfred's hands gripped his waist and Matthew felt lips on the back of his neck. "Not that I'm complaining, of course."

"Of course not." Matthew felt somehow strangely turned on by the whole thing, the dark atmosphere, the obvious sexual tension that pervaded the club, the loud music, and it made him wonder: was he secretly an exhibitionist or something? That would be something to find out later.

He lost track of the time until he felt Alfred slowly guiding him out of the crowd. "Yo, it's closing time in a couple minutes. We oughta beat the rush home."

"Right."

The silent car ride home felt somehow tense—maybe that was just because Matthew's pants were barely hiding the fact that he was half-hard, and he suspected it was the same for Alfred. Matthew learned that he was right as soon as they got in the doorway—after a couple strange looks from neighbours out in the hallway, but what were _they_ doing up at three in the morning, anyways?

Alfred popped the button on his jeans with a sigh. "Jesus H. Christ, my dick is suffocating."

Sure, it was three in the morning, and Matthew had to be up and decent by nine-thirty, but at the moment he couldn't really care less. He had just discovered that Alfred had been going commando under his pants. And _damn, _if that wasn't a turn-on.

He seemed to sense the desperation Matthew was feeling, and took a couple steps closer. "Tell me, how do you want it?"

"I… um." The English language? Ha, Matthew didn't remember what that was.

"Go on, don't be shy."

"Don't tempt me."

Alfred grinned lazily, leaning close enough for Matthew to feel the heat coming off his body. "I don't know what you mean, Mattie. How could this be tempting?" He ran a finger from Matthew's navel down to his groin.

Matthew groaned in his throat and pushed Alfred against the wall with a 'thud' he really hoped didn't wake up the neighbours, and kissed him. He struggled to undo his pants, but once he had, he yanked them down and did the same to Alfred's, wrapping a hand around both of their erections—well, trying to. Alfred's hand joined his, squeezing just right.

Neither bothered to take it further, just kissing and getting each other off as they were. Matthew came first, with a quiet gasp, but didn't stop moving his hand until Alfred was done too. They slumped against each other, catching their breath, and Alfred kissed Matthew on the nose.

"Shower then bed?"

"Please. Could you…?"

"Yeah, I'll help you out of your pants. It's an art, trust me."

It really _was _an art, and when they crawled into bed together, Matthew thanked Alfred as best as he could, snuggling up to him and gladly kissing him good night. Alfred chuckled and stroked his hair, kissing him back.

Getting only about four hours of sleep would definitely be worth it.

…

The next day, Matthew met with his students and their families to discuss lesson times, pricing, all that jazz. In fact, one of them _did_ want to learn mainly jazz guitar, but that was completely beside the point. Matthew was busy making a good impression, pretending he wasn't using cover-up to hide the purple bags under his eyes, and Alfred was behaving himself, just walking around and generally not making a nuisance of himself.

Matthew checked off a clipboard after saying goodbye to one girl and her parents. "Phew. Only one more, and we're done!"

"Man, that's a lot of kids."

"There'll only be four a day, you know."

"Every day of the week?!"

"No, just Monday thru Thursday."

"Oh. Wow, you scared me for a minute there. So, who's the last kid?"

"A boy. Matthew Meads."

The last name looked familiar, but Matthew shrugged it off, thinking it was probably just an ex-colleague's name or something. So when he opened the door to find his high-school English teacher, to say he was shocked would be an understatement.

"Mr. Meads?"

"Matthew Williams?"

The boy, who looked about eight or nine, looked back and forth between the men, obviously confused. "Dad, you know him?"

"Yes, I do. He was a student of mine. It's been eight years, but…" The man shrugged. "Matthew, meet my son… Matthew. Matt, this is the man your mother and I named you after."

Alfred, who had been sitting quietly in the kitchen with a book, looked up suddenly, somehow interested in the conversation.

"Well, come on in." Matthew let them in, gesturing to the living room. They sat down, and Matthew had to ask, "What brought you to Boston?"

"My wife. Her job transferred us here shortly after Matthew was born. You remember she was pregnant around the time you graduated?"

"Yes, I do."

"She and I are divorced now, I'm sorry to say, but I'm working at an elementary school and I get full custody of my son. She lives in Oregon now anyways, and Matthew gets to see her in the summer."

"Oh, I see." Matthew briefly explained his own circumstances, and turned to the boy. "So, Matthew, what level are you at in terms of playing your guitar?"

_I can't believe he named his kid after me. I knew I was one of his favourites, but… wow. That's really not at all what I expected._

The boy was a beginner, so Matthew got out some simple exercises and songs. "Practice these as best as you can, and we'll go over them the first real lesson."

_Wow. Eight years. So he's… thirty-seven now? And only one kid. I thought he wanted a big family. Well, people change._

Matthew was busy thinking, so he barely noticed Mr. Meads—no, he would be Keith now, talking to him. "You've grown up quite a bit, but I suppose you haven't changed too much. You're still the same nice guy, really."

Matthew shrugged. "Well… thanks. You haven't changed too much either, I guess."

Keith smiled at him. "Remember how you would come in before school sometimes and help me grade papers? And in return, I fueled your caffeine addiction."

Matthew nodded, smiling. "I remember that. I still haven't broken my addiction, either."

"Good times, eh?"

"Good times."

"Maybe we should get together over coffee sometime? I'd love to hear what you've been up to all these years."

"Sure, that'd be great." He heard a small crash from the kitchen, and glanced over to see Alfred glaring at the pan he had dropped on the floor.

Keith and Matthew—Matthew Jr., that is, also looked towards him, and Alfred waved. "Hi. Don't mind me."

"Did you break anything?"

"Nope."

Matthew smiled. "Oh, this is Alfred. He's my roommate, and my best friend in the entire country."

He thought he heard the American mutter something akin to 'you bet your ass I am' before he came over to shake Keith's hand. "Nice to meet you. Mattie, do you want me to get dinner going?"

"I don't know, wasn't it my turn?"

"If you say so, babe." Alfred kissed him on the cheek, and Matthew felt himself blush.

"Um…"

Keith's eyebrows went up as Alfred went to the bedroom. "Finally found someone who likes you for who you are, eh?"

"Yes. Yes, I suppose I have."

They talked formalities, fees, etc., and a few minutes later, Matthew said goodbye to Keith and his son. He waved goodbye, closed the door behind them, then gasped when Alfred pushed him up against it and kissed him deeply, passionately, almost angrily.

Alfred's hands tangled into his hair, and Matthew couldn't even find the breath to protest what Alfred was doing, not with the air slowly being stolen away from his lungs. Alfred's tongue was in his mouth, exploring Matthew with a new kind of fervor, as though claiming him.

Alfred pulled back to breathe, then latched onto Matthew's neck, biting and sucking his skin until he had left a large, dark purple mark. _Did he just say 'mine'?_

"Al, wait."

"No."

"Seriously, just a minute, I-" He felt Alfred cup him through his pants, and his sentence cut off with a soft, breathy sound. He _really _needed to do something to stop Alfred. "What's gotten into you?"

"Don't know. So shut up already."

Matthew pushed Alfred off. "You _do_ know, don't you?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "So I'm a little jealous of your big, handsome, sophisticated teacher-crush. Big deal."

He tried to grab Matthew again, but the other quickly dodged him. "Why are you jealous?"

"Because he was being all flirty and shit."

Matthew laughed. "Al, he's as straight as they get, trust me. He was just being friendly, you know, he was my mentor all through high school!"

"Straight my ass! I know what guys look like when they're coming onto other guys."

Matthew sighed and shook his head. "You're imagining things. Besides, why would you even have to worry about that?"

Alfred crossed his arms. "You were in love with him."

"Yeah, eight years ago. And it was just a crush. Seriously, he's just like any other guy to me now."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. So calm down. Why _are _you so worked up?"

"I…" Alfred bit his lip and stared at his feet for a moment, and Matthew was surprised by how vulnerable he looked.

"You…?"

"It's just that… how should I put it?" He sighed and looked up at Matthew. "I don't want to lose you to anyone, okay? I love you. I love that you wear fuzzy socks in the winter, even to work. I love that you're an absolute troll before you have your morning coffee. I love how you spit-clean your glasses when you think no one's looking. I love how you blush when anyone compliments you, especially if it's me. I love your weird-ass cinnamon chili. I love that you're honest with me, no matter what. I love how you let me snuggle up next to you if you're wearing a fuzzy bathrobe or sweater. Hell, I love that you actually want to cuddle after sex. I love your little habits, like the way you play with your hair all the time. Especially the way you play with your hair. I seriously love every single damn thing about you, even your sarcastic little snips and your passive-aggressive tendencies. I swear, I can make myself sick by thinking about how sappy I get around you, that's how much I love what you do. I guess… what I really mean to say is… I love you, Mattie, and I'm really freaking happy about it. There, I said it, I love you."

Matthew had been turning progressively redder and redder over the course of Alfred's little speech. "I… well…" Great, he couldn't even speak properly. "I don't think anyone's ever said something like that to me before."

_I can't believe it. Of all the ways to say it, he picks the one way that leaves me speechless._

Alfred stood there, slowly turning pink while Matthew struggled to find words. Finally, he managed to find enough air to choke out in a whisper, "I love you too."

Alfred took a step closer, smiling. "What was that?"

"I said, I love you too."

"Sorry, one more time?"

"I love-"

Alfred cut him off with a kiss, much more gentle and caring this time. When Matthew felt his back pressing against the door, he was just happy it was there for support. They pulled back for air at the same time, and leaned their foreheads together.

"Bed?"

"Yes."

They made their way there slowly, kissing the whole way and shedding articles of clothing. By the time they collapsed there together, just gently touching each other in the most intimate ways possible, all their clothes were scattered throughout the apartment.

"You know," Alfred murmured, hooking his legs around Matthew's hips and grinding up slowly, "I was considering just getting you to take me against the door, but this is a bit nicer."

Matthew slipped a couple lube-slick fingers in-between Alfred's legs, pressing them inside him gently. "It is nicer. Maybe later…?"

"Definitely." Alfred kissed him hungrily, hands gripping Matthew's shoulder and squeezing lightly. "Go ahead. I'm ready."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

Somehow it felt different this time, the way he slid inside Alfred, the way the other gasped and clutched at his shoulders. Somehow it felt exactly the same, the way they moved together, finding the perfect pace, the perfect angle, the perfect everything. Altogether, it felt wonderful, especially once they were at the end, crying out simultaneously, muscles tensing and un-tensing, in perfect bliss.

When they were both recovered, still just holding onto each other, Matthew laughed quietly. "I have an idea."

"Hm?"

"You know how since we met, you've had me try a bunch of new things?"

"Yeah."

"Well… I think it's high time we try something _you've _never really done before."

Alfred sat up a bit. "Okay, what do you mean?"

Matthew kissed him softly, nuzzling their noses together when he pulled back. "A long-term relationship." He heard Alfred inhale sharply, and for a moment his heart pounded in his chest nervously.

Then Alfred laughed and hugged him tight. "Now that," he whispered in Matthew's ear, "Is something I would definitely like to try."

* * *

**Well, we're at the official end now. There's an epilogue coming, of course, but this is the last **_**real**_** chapter. So… I'm a sucker for happy endings, if you can't tell, and I hope you are too.**

**Thanks to everyone for the great feedback! You've helped me keep writing this. Really, I'm sure I wouldn't even have gotten half this far without you. But I'll save the real goodbyes for the epilogue.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	9. Epilogue: Stacked Crooked

**Okay guys, here we are at the last part. Am I sad? A little. Happy? A little. Feeling bittersweet? Hell yes. So, read on and enjoy, my friends!**

**Oh yeah, and thanks for the amazing feedback last chapter!**

* * *

Now, to say that their relationship was perfect would be a fanciful exaggeration. They had their share of fights, from petty little hissy fits to full-blown shouting matches, but it was never enough to break them up. They learned to love each other's flaws—well, they learned to tolerate them. Matthew ignored the socks on the bedroom floor, and Alfred ignored the puddles around the bathroom sink.

Tolerating each other's families, however, was more difficult. Matthew's parents were too nosy about their relationship and overprotective of Matthew, and Alfred's parents didn't approve of Matthew at first. But they conquered that with ice cream sundaes on the couch and drawn-out complaining sessions, where they both bitched about their parents.

Matthew's new job made him much happier and caused him less stress, even though it was more work, and he felt it rubbed off on Alfred, even after a couple years had passed. They weren't in the apartment anymore, since they had just bought and moved into a house a few months ago. It wasn't all that far away from where they had lived before, but the extra space _was _nice, Matthew had to admit. Besides, two bathrooms always made for less trouble. And now when Eliza came to visit, they could go work in Alfred's new study while Matthew taught guitar in the afternoons.

One evening, they were snuggling on the couch after dinner, putting off doing the dishes and looking at their nicely fenced-in backyard, when Matthew had an idea. "Let's get a dog."

"Huh?"

"A dog. You know, man's best friend. A fluffy companion to play fetch with, who'll sit by our feet, make us get outside more often…"

"A dog." Alfred shrugged. "Yeah, that does sound like a good idea. I had dogs as a kid, but I haven't trained any for years."

"Well, that's something we'll be doing together."

"True, true. Oh, by the way, no poodles. I want a manly dog, like a lab or something."

"Sure thing." Matthew nodded. "I'd be too worried about tripping over a small dog anyways."

The puppy they adopted was a lab-shepherd mix, black with white paws and big brown eyes. "Aw, he's just a cutie!"

"Yes Al, he is." _I heard you the first twenty times._

"D'aww… look at him! Hey, what're we gonna call him?"

Matthew was driving back from the animal shelter, and Alfred had the pup in his lap (on a towel, just in case).

"Whatever you want to."

"Okay, let me think on it."

Matthew smiled, shaking his head. "I hope you won't start paying more attention to him than to me."

"No worries, dude. Your kisses are _way_ nicer than dog kisses."

"Glad to hear it. At least you won't be lonely while I'm at work."

"You got that right. But I'm gonna be spending a lot of time housetraining this guy. Man, I'm glad the eighth book is almost done. No way I'd be able to work a lot and deal with a puppy at the same time. They're downright destructive if you turn your back on 'em."

They got home, unloading the puppy from the car, who was set on the grass by Alfred. "Okay Benny, go pee!"

"Benny?"

"Short for Benjamin. I think it suits him."

Matthew looked at the puppy and smiled. "You know what? I think it does too."

"Awesomesauce."

"You're twenty- nine, and you _still_ use those expressions?"

"You betcha." Alfred winked at Matthew. "It helps me keep my youthful energy."

"Whatever you say."

The puppy finally peed, so they cheered and called him over, letting him into the house. "Aw, look at that, he's sniffing everything! How cute!"

"Well yeah, he's curious." Alfred sat on the floor at patted his lap, welcoming the puppy onto it. "You know, the next book I'm gonna write is the end of the Will Stone series. I'm kinda wondering what to write next… maybe a detective mystery novel? Murder mysteries, duh."

"What kind of murders?" Matthew sat down next to Alfred, and smiled when Benny wriggled over so he was in both of their laps.

"Oh, serial killings and stuff like that. Meaning I'm actually gonna have to research that. Ugh." Alfred shuddered. "That's some creepy shit, lemme tell you."

"Well, whatever you're going to do, I'll do whatever I can to help, even if that includes watching horror movies."

"Thanks, man. You know I can't watch those on my own."

"Now who's a manly-man?"

Alfred shoved him playfully. "Dick. At least I'm not afraid of snakes!"

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Nope."

…

A couple months later, with the publishing of his book, Alfred went to New York City. He was scheduled to appear on various television and radio programs, mostly in interviews to help promote his book and/or answer questions.

Matthew was a bit lonely, but he had work and the dog to keep him busy, so he was all right. He and Alfred talked on the phone each night, staying up much later than they probably should have.

"I miss you."

"I miss you too. Hey, where are you right now?"

"In bed."

"How convenient, me too! Well, not like there's much else in the ways of hotel room furniture. Hey, Matt?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Yeah. So… what're you up to?"

"Sitting in bed and talking to you, what else?"

"I dunno. I was just curious."

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"If you're horny, then just admit it."

"Seriously? How can you tell over the phone?"

"I know your 'I'm secretly turned on and embarrassed about it' voice, Al."

"Fuck. So much for being sneaky."

"You're bad at being sneaky."

"I know."

_Pause._

Matthew rolled his eyes, smiling. "What, aren't you going to lead?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know what I mean."

"Fine, fine…" He heard the sound of fabric rustling on the other end. "So… I'm naked under the bedsheets."

"Oh, really? I'm not, but I can be if you want."

"Yes please."

Matthew laughed and unbuttoned his pajama shirt. "Okay, shirt is off. And… pants are off."

"What, no underwear?"

"Not tonight. I was thinking about letting everything breathe a little. You do it all the time, eh?"

"Yeah. What're you doing now?"

"Not much. Just getting myself all the way hard." And he was, just slowly rubbing up and down his shaft.

"I don't think I've ever told you this, but you definitely have one of the biggest dicks out of any my boyfriends. Like, ever."

"Thanks, I think. What are you doing?"

"Oh, you know… just teasing myself a bit."

"And you yell at me whenever I try to spend a nice long time on foreplay."

"Hey, not my fault you know how to drive me nuts."

"Oh really? What do you like that I do to you?" Matthew shifted his hand, rubbing himself a little harder.

"I love it when you play with my nipples when we make out. And when you're fingering me, how you're always super gentle and your hands are so warm. Or when you suck me off, you use your tongue _really_ well, or you massage my legs when you do it or—mmph. God, just thinking about it…"

"Go on, imagine I'm doing it to you right now."

"Mattie…"

"I know. You know what you do that really turns me on?" He was breathing harder now, they both were, panting into the phone on either end.

"No, I don't know… how about you tell me?"

"Well," Matthew gasped for breath, "I love it when you start giving me your bedroom eyes. It doesn't matter if we're out in public or at home, it's practically enough to give me a boner just like that." He paused, breathing heavily for a moment as he fisted himself. "You know what else I love?"

"Tell me."

"I love it when you call my name."

"What like this?" He heard Alfred take a deep breath on the other line before exhaling in a low, breathy sigh, "Mattie…"

Matthew moaned out loud at that, resisting the urge to put a hand over his mouth to muffle it. "Yes, just like that."

"I can see why, it's pretty hot to hear you say my name too, babe."

"Al… what're you doing now?"

"Well, I'm not being teasing anymore, that's for sure. I'm jerking off, pretending it's your mouth, but it's not the same."

"Did you pack any lube?"

"No, of course not. It's not like I'm getting laid up here or anything. I mean, I have lotion, but that's it."

Matthew chuckled, but it ended up sounding a bit more like a mixture between a moan and a gasp. "Well, I'm not sure if I should be happy or disappointed right now."

"You know what, to hell with the mess. Not _my _problem."

"What do you mean?"

A couple seconds later, he heard Alfred's breath catch in his throat. "You… you know what I mean."

"Are you fingering yourself?"

"Yeah."

_Damn, that's hot._

Matthew reached into the bedside table, grabbing a tube of lube and slicking up a couple of his own fingers before slipping them inside himself. He must've made some kind of noise, because Alfred laughed quietly. "You too?"

"Yes."

"Put it on speaker, it's easier that way."

Matthew lay the phone on the bed beside him after putting it on speaker. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes Matt, I can. Are you close?"

"Pretty close, yeah." Matthew found his sweet spot just then and groaned, biting his lip. "Al…"

"Yeah, Mattie?"

"I wish you were here."

"Nnh… me too. A couple more days and I'll be home, then we'll have each other again. Oh, oh, Mattie…"

"Al…" Matthew wrapped his free hand around himself, pumping again, moaning at the added stimulation. "I-I'm not going to last—ngh, much longer… god, Al!"

"Don't – ah! – worry. I'm almost there too."

Alfred's breathing was coming in fast pants, and his voice was picking up that tone of desperation it always did right before he came. Knowing what he looked like then, imagining him, Matthew was on the very edge.

"T-together?" He managed to gasp.

"Yeah. Together."

They cried out at the same time, each of them calling the other's name. Matthew recovered for a moment, then picked up the phone and took it off speaker once he caught his breath. "Hey, you there?"

"Yeah. Man, that was good."

"I know." Matthew glanced at the clock and sighed. "I'd better get to bed. It's late."

"Well, that's the problem with having stamina, right?"

Matthew laughed. "Yes, I guess so. Good night, Al."

"Good night. Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Definitely. I love you."

"I love you too."

They hung up and Matthew put the phone on the bedside table, then rolled over onto the clean, non-cum-and-lube spattered side of the bed. Alfred's side. He could smell his boyfriend on his pillow, and it was comforting even though he had just gotten off the phone with him. Matthew fell asleep quickly, a happy smile on his face.

…

"I'm home!" Alfred called from the doorway, dropping his suitcase on the floor, and Matthew hopped up from the couch, completely forgetting his book as he walked over to Alfred.

"Al!"

"Hiya, Mattie. Benny, sweetie-pie, no jumping on Daddy, no matter how much he knows you love him."

"Daddy?"

Alfred shrugged. "It works." He patted the dog and then stepped forward, pulling him into a rib-cracking hug and planting kisses all over his face. "I missed you so much! How was work?"

How Alfred expected him to answer while squeezing the air out of his lungs was beyond Matthew, so he just laughed breathlessly. He had almost forgotten how much he loved Al's strength. He didn't think he'd forget again.

When Alfred stopped crushing him so much and he could actually breathe, Matthew spoke. "Oh, it was fine. How was your flight?"

"Meh. Flying Economy sucks. but hey, I'm just happy to be home."

Matthew kissed him, squeezing his shoulders. "I'm happy you're home too. Who else will take the dog out to pee while I'm at work?"

"Is that the only thing I'm good for around here?"

"No, not the _only _thing. You do laundry sometimes."

"Very funny. So, any plans for tonight?"

"Not really." Matthew shrugged. "I thought we'd stay in. They're airing one of your interviews tonight, an I'm kind of curious what questions they asked you."

"Fine, we'll watch it and I can lament how bad I am at interviews. Seriously though, I'm terrible. I swear, I said 'like' about fifty times in ten minutes in one interview."

…

He wasn't _that _awful, at least Matthew didn't think so. They snuggled on the couch with mugs of tea and the dog at their feet, watching the program. It was already about halfway through the interview, past most of the important questions.

"_So, Mr. Jones, is it true that the next book in the series will be the last?"_

"_Probably. Everyone's gotta grow up, even teenage super-spy heroes."_

"_True, very true. And has Hollywood really bought the movie rights to the first book?"_

_Alfred nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose._

Alfred pointed at the television. "Ah! Look, I did it again!"

"Relax, it's not that obvious."

"_Well, yeah. We're still negotiating on a few terms, but it looks like soon enough there'll be a Will Stone movie."_

"_How lucky for your fans."_

"_You bet. I'm just hoping the producers and I have the same sort of vision, you know?" Alfred crossed his legs, smiling at the pretty young interviewer._

_She smiled back, flipping through a couple papers. "Our viewers had a couple questions of their own for you. They were wondering why you live in such a small house when you could obviously afford something much fancier. Is there a reason?"_

"_Yeah, I don't want to live in a big empty house. It's a waste of space and money. Besides, this way I can actually interact with my neighbors. You don't see Hollywood stars having backyard barbecues like I do!"_

"_So you live well within the means of an average American family?"_

"_Yep. That's how I grew up, and I don't feel like pretending to be something I'm not, by living the high life. Plus I'm bad at being pretentious."_

_The interviewer chuckled. "Well, that's certainly a good reason. Tell me, do you see yourself settling down anytime soon?"_

_Alfred shrugged. "Well, I share a house with my boyfriend and our dog, so I'm pretty much settled down as it is, but… who knows? Anything could happen."_

"_I see. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Jones."_

"_Thanks for having me."_

"_One last thing: if you could say something to your fans, what would it be?"_

_Alfred smiled at the camera. "Don't be afraid to do what you love. Happiness is more important than money, so if it comes down to that, do what'll make you happiest. I did, and look at me now. Also, stay in school."_

_The camera cut away to a newscaster. "That was Alfred F. Jones, author of the critically acclaimed Will Stone series. His latest book, the penultimate novel in the series, __The Great White North__, will go on sale everywhere next week. Now for the weather."_

Matthew switched off the T.V. and raised an eyebrow at Alfred. "Money versus happiness?"

"Yep. You made the decision too, Mr. Success story."

Matthew kissed Alfred on the forehead. "You're sweet, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know I'm pretty amazing."

He rolled his eyes and poked Alfred's cheek. "Don't get _too_ full of yourself, now."

"No worries. So," he sat up, "Should we go for a walk?"

"I already took Benny out this afternoon."

"No, I mean just the two of us. C'mon, I've been cooped up all week!"

"Oh, sure."

They walked to the nearest park, where a few people were sitting on benches, walking their dogs, or watching their kids climb around on the jungle gym. Alfred shoved one hand into his jeans pocket and took Matthew's hand with the other. They walked and talked for a while, just about what was going on. Matthew's trouble in dealing with a couple drama queens in the trumpet section, Alfred's encounter with a _nasty_ photographer, how Benny's training was coming along, all that.

When they were beside the small pond in the park, Alfred stopped, looking over the water. "Sun's setting."

"Yep."

He squeezed Matthew's hand. "You know, that interviewer lady got me thinking."

"About what?"

"Settling down." Alfred turned so he was facing Matthew. "Man… it's hard to believe that I was only on the sixth book when we first got together…"

"And now you're starting on the last one."

"Yeah. Time flies, huh?" He smiled at Matthew. "You know what?"

"No, what?"

"At the end of these past three books, it's said in the 'about the author' section that 'Alfred lives with his partner, Matthew, in Boston', right?"

"Yes, it has."

"Well…" Alfred blushed. "I was kind of hoping that at the end of this one it could say 'with his husband' instead."

Matthew's eyes widened. "You mean…"

"Yeah." Alfred pulled his hand out of his pocket, revealing the small box he had been carrying. "I'd get down on one knee and all that, but this is sappy enough as it is. So… do you want that written in the back of the book too?"

Matthew laughed, grabbing Alfred by the shoulders and kissing him. "Of course I do. I'd _love _it."

Alfred grinned. "Awesome." He had two rings, one for each of them, and once they put them on, he laughed quietly to himself.

"What's so funny?" Matthew tilted his head.

"I never thought I'd say this, but…" he took Matthew's hand, kissing each of his fingers. "I'm glad that boyfriend of mine was a cheating skank. Without that, this might not have happened."

Matthew just sighed happily and kissed Alfred again. "For two guys who really suck at relationships, we've turned out pretty well, eh?"

"Probably because we have each other." Alfred blushed. "Was that too clichéd?"

Matthew shook his head. "Not at all. It was just clichéd enough."

* * *

**And now we're at the real end. *Sniff*… the sappiness! It's too much! Thank you to everyone who had reviewed, followed, favourited, everything. You all rock. Now, this is the end of "Stacked Crooked", but it definitely won't be the last story I write, believe you me. Probably not the last in this particular pairing, either. Watch out world, lumaluma is on the loose!**

**Now, since all chapter titles were songs, here they are:**

**Ch. 1: Don't Believe a Word – Third Eye Blind**

**Ch. 2: Sissyneck – Beck**

**Ch. 3: What's My Age Again? – Blink 182**

**Ch. 4: Sweet Talk, Sweet Talk – The New Pornographers**

**Ch. 5: You Drove Me Home – Revolver**

**Ch. 6: Bad Romance – Lady Gaga**

**Ch. 7: No Surprises – Radiohead**

**Ch. 8: What I'm Trying to Say – Stars**

**Epilogue/Story Title: Stacked Crooked – The New Pornographers.**

**Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you liked (read: loved) it! lumaluma, signing off.**


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